VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR
by Michmak
Summary: The murder of a popular DJ prooves an interesting case for the team, and Grissom comes to a conclusion about relationships- FINISHED!
1. Default Chapter

Title: VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: An interesting new case for the CSI's to solve, and a continuation of the relationships established in BROKEN BOY  
  
Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.  
  
  
  
Sara popped a couple of Advil into her mouth, quickly chasing them with a long swig of coffee from her thermos. "This is all your fault, Grissom!" she groused good-naturedly. "If you hadn't brought that champagne to breakfast this morning-"  
  
"You'd have to complain about something else!' Grissom finished for her, smiling as he teased.  
  
Warrick snorted. "Got you there, Sara."  
  
Sara ignored him. "So, Grissom. Where are we walking to on this cold night that we can't get to by Tahoe?  
  
"Not much further." Grissom shone his maglight at her, smiling. "Brass is already there, waiting for us."  
  
"We're practically in the middle of the desert! Where in the world can Brass be? Wouldn't we see lights or-" her voice petered out as Grissom abruptly stopped at the edge of a small cliff. About 10 feet down, she saw several police officers and Brass, standing in the middle of it all, barking out orders.  
  
She threw a glance at Warrick, who shrugged. "How do we get down there?" she asked, incredulously.  
  
Grissom shone his flashlight around - "Ladders. Over there. You guys ready?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass met them at the bottom of the ladder. "Hey guys. I have a name for you."  
  
"Really? That was quick work. Did he have identification on him?" Grissom asked, as they followed Brass towards their victim.  
  
"No ID. And whoever killed him chopped off his fingertips, so no fingerprints either."  
  
"Than how do you know who he is?"  
  
Brass grinned. "We all know who he is - we were just listening to him on the radio this morning. It's Randy Rivers, the DJ from the Rivers and Waters morning show. Recognized his face from all those big ads on the buses."  
  
They stopped in front of the body. The youngish man was naked, stretched out carefully on the sand spread eagle. As Brass had indicated, Mr. Rivers was missing his fingertips. They had all been amputated from the middle knuckles up. There were several dark bruises on his chest and arms, and Grissom suspected that their victim probably had several broken ribs.  
  
At this early stage, there was no obvious sign as to what had caused his death, although the beating he had obviously taken could have done it. Other than the vivid bruising, however, there were no stab marks, and obviously no gunshot wounds.  
  
Sara had already started taking pictures, when Warrick quickly pulled on his latex gloves and leaned forward, staring intently at the face.  
  
"Grissom, Sara. Look at this. He's got something jammed into his mouth." Sara carefully snapped a couple of photos, and watched with Grissom as Warrick gingerly pulled a short piece of video tape film from the victims' mouth. The majority of the blockage remained jammed down his throat.  
  
"Well, well." Grissom said, looking at the three inches of tape hanging from Rivers mouth that now fluttered obscenely against the victims face in the light wind. "Video killed the radio star."  
  
________  
  
Author's note: And we're off! This story is a continuation of BROKEN BOY - you don't need to read it in order to follow this story, but it might help you to understand previous references and relationships that are already in existence here. Please R&R! Helps keep me motivated! 


	2. SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

II - SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL  
  
Under the harsh lights in autopsy, the bruises on the body of the victim were particularly vivid. Ranging in colors from black and purple to blue, green and yellow, they entirely covered his upper chest and back. Grissom watched with interest as Doctor Robbins gently but firmly ran his hands up the torso, and winced as he noticed the subtle shifting under the skin.  
  
"Well, it appears that practically every bone in the upper body was shattered. The chest is very pulpy. X-Rays will confirm this, of course. Perhaps a broken rib punctured the heart." Robbins looked at Grissom and waived him closer. "Look at this." He very gently manipulated the collar- bone, showing Grissom how it rippled and rolled under the skin. "That had to have hurt."  
  
He continued his study, inspecting the mouth and gently fingering the small ribbon of VHS tape hanging from it. "I assume you're going to want this as intact as possible?" Not waiting for a response, he gently started removing it, sliding his fingers into the cavity and trying to dislodge the lump of tape. He ran his free hand up the outside of the throat, manipulating from the outside, gently pulling and pushing as he slowly pulled the blockage free.  
  
Grissom was amazed to see the amount of tape that had been shoved down the victim's throat, and wondered how it had been shoved in there to begin with. Had Mr. Rivers murderer placed it in their after he was dead, or before? He looked closer at the mass now sitting on the table, studying it.  
  
"Is that vomit?" he questioned, pointing out pulpy particles of half digested food sticking to the lower mass of the tape.  
  
Robbins looked at it, grunting in the affirmative. "Looks that way. Automatic gag reflex, I would assume. At least we know he was still alive when he was forced to eat this. Dead men don't gag."  
  
"Any way we might be able to determine what - if anything - is on this tape? Or will it be too wrecked from saliva and stomach acids to do us any good?" Robbins shrugged.  
  
"You're the CSI, not me. I'd suggest maybe sending Greg down here to check this out, if you think he can handle it. There's no knowing what chemical knowledge is floating around in that brain of his."  
  
Grissom laughed, than sighed. "I'll send him down. You'll beep me when you have more info?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine Willows did not like waiting. She was standing in the main lobby of K-ROX, one of Las Vegas' most popular radio stations, toe tapping impatiently as she glanced at her watch for the tenth time. Above her, she could hear the annoying patter of the late night DJ, and than the stringent chords of a song she did recognize. She smiled grimly - Greg would know it.  
  
The sharp staccato tapping of stiletto heels on marble caught her attention, and she turned as the woman she had spoken to earlier returned.  
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Willows." She said, in a voice that indicated she really wasn't sorry at all. "As you can imagine, we are all quite shocked here by the news. Randy was supposed to be at the same charity function the rest of us were at tonight. Quite frankly, when he didn't show up, I was a little pissed."  
  
"Well, he had a good reason for missing it." Catherine responded dryly. "Listen, Ms. - Robards? Right? I don't have a lot of time. Did you get me the information I needed?"  
  
The statuesque blonde rolled her eyes. "Well, no one seems to know what time he left today. It was sometime after 4:00, and definitely before 5:30, but no one knows for sure. I can't seem to reach Mr. Phillips - the station manager - on the phone or by beeper, but Mr. Waters is coming in to talk to you. He says you can wait in Mr. Phillips office for him. Follow me."  
  
Catherine kept her thoughts to herself as she followed Ms. Robards across the lobby and down a narrow hallway. The heavy smell of the woman's perfume was cloying and sickly. She smelled of gardenia and roses, and a sudden coppery scent that made Catherine pause. Ms. Robards had stopped in front of an office door, and had turned to Catherine as she opened it up.  
  
"Well - here we are!" she began, before Catherine motioned for silence, and gingerly stepped into the dark office, snapping on the light.  
  
"Oh my God!" The sound of Ms. Robards vomiting in the hallway barely registered. Catherine looked in shock at the blood bath before her. A robust man, whom she assumed was the station manager Robards had spent ten minutes trying to phone, was sitting slumped in his leather chair behind his desk. What had once been a white Tuxedo shirt was crimson, and dripping with blood. The various splatters around the room were indicative of a violent struggle, as were the papers and broken glass that covered most of the floor. Stapled neatly into his forehead was a piece of printer paper. "Sympathy for the Devil" was printed on it in dark black letters.  
  
Gingerly stepping backwards, Catherine pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "Brass? It's me. I'm at the radio station. I've found Mr. Phillips, I think. He's been murdered. You might want to get out here right away, and send Grissom." 


	3. SET-UP

III - SET-UP  
  
Greg Sanders was whistling as he bent over the knotted VHS tape and gingerly began trying to untangle it. He didn't know what would be salvageable, if anything, but one could always hope. The entire process was tedious - first, he had to rinse the tape in a warm solution that he *hoped* wouldn't dissolve the film, then he had to unravel it through the myriad of knots and kinks it had been formed into. To his left, a sterile tray sat, waiting for pieces of tape that Greg deemed salvageable. The front end of the tape - the part that had been hanging out of River's mouth - had already been cut and placed there. A neatly lettered # 1 was placed neatly beside the film.  
  
He was so focused on his job, he didn't hear Nick until he was right behind him.  
  
"Hey Greggo! Watcha' doing?"  
  
"Oh shit! Nice one Nick - you made me tighten this knot instead of loosening it. Don't sneak up on me like that!" Greg looked at Nick and scowled. "You scared the crap out of me!"  
  
"I can tell. Your hairs standing straight up on end!" Nick teased. "C'mon - I'm sorry. What are you doing?"  
  
"For you information, I am trying to untangle this mess. Robbins retrieved it from the throat of Randy Rivers - the DJ from K-ROX - and Grissom is wondering if we can see what's on it." He turned back to his task, gently washing another section of tape. "What are you doing here? Internal Affairs close the investigation already?"  
  
Nick plopped down on a stool next to Greg and grunted. "No. Not yet. But I was bored, so I thought I'd pop by and see what's going on. See if maybe Sara could take an early coffee break or something."  
  
"She's not here. She's with Warrick and Grissom. Catherine too, I suppose. We got two bodies tonight, Randy and his station manager. They're over at K-ROX right now processing the scene. I think she was going to try to grab some files or some information on Rivers at the station, and come back here to start sifting, though. She may be back soon."  
  
Nick sat silently for a few moments, watching as Greg untangled about 6 inches of tape before snipping it, and placing it neatly on the tray, beside the number 2. "Greg, I'm going crazy here. I have to do something. Is there anything I can help with?"  
  
Greg looked at Nick and grinned. "Well, you could get me a cup of coffee. And a sandwich. I'm starved."  
  
Nick looked at Greg and shook his head good naturedly. "Considering you bought me this hideous shirt I'm wearing, I think you're pushing your luck today. What do I look like? A waiter?"  
  
Greg laughed. "C'mon Nick. You know you love it! If you get me a coffee, I'll let you untangle this mess while I eat."  
  
"Done." Nick was off the stool in an instant. "Roast beef okay for you?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom and Catherine were carefully sifting through the mess in Philips office. The body had been photographed, processed and removed, and all that remained was a final thorough sweep. Every once in a while, Grissom would bend down and look intently at the papers strewn around the floor. So far, it appeared they were all memorandums.  
  
"Hey Gil." Catherine's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up at her, watching as she studied the blood splatters on the left side of the room.  
  
"Yes? Find anything?"  
  
"No. Just wanted to ask you something." Catherine turned to look at him, smiling. "You remember when you asked me last night if I knew anyone you could date?"  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her, and shook his head. "No. I remember agreeing with you that I should leave the Nick and Sara thing alone."  
  
"And then you said you wanted to open up more, and asked me if I knew anyone who could help you do that. Remember?"  
  
Grissom sighed. "I think that was a rhetorical question, Catherine. Now, if we could get back to our investigation -"  
  
"Oh no you don't, Gil. You remember. And I think I found someone, so I set you up - you're meeting her for an early dinner tomorrow, before shift starts. Her name is Mandy Brown, and she's a lawyer, and-"  
  
"I'm not going." Grissom's voice was firm, and a little angry. "I don't do blind dates."  
  
"You do now." Catherine replied. "Come on, Grissom. She's a nice lady. I've told her all about you, and she's interested in meeting. What harm could there be? If you don't want to go, you can call and cancel yourself. Besides, you did ask me -"  
  
Grissom interrupted her. "I didn't mean for you to set me up on random blind dates without even getting any input from me first! How do you know I'm not busy tomorrow."  
  
Catherine just looked at him, and started picking up some of the papers on the floor, stacking them into neat piles. Her raised eyebrow said it all.  
  
"Okay. Alright. I don't have any plans. I'll go. But this is the first time - and the last time - you'll ever set me up on a blind date. Got that, Catherine?"  
  
Catherine nodded, smiling meekly even as her eyes flashed amusement at Grissom's discomfort. "Yes, Gil. Now, let's box this paper up and get back to the office. Maybe Robbins or Greg might have some more news for us. So far, the evidence is surprisingly lacking." 


	4. HEAR NO EVIL, SPEAK NO EVIL

IV - HEAR NO EVIL, SPEAK NO EVIL  
  
"Okay. This is what we got. Rivers suffocated to death." Robbins looked at Catherine and Grissom, before continuing. "Of course, the beating he took would have killed him - every single rib was shattered, collarbone - gone. One of his lungs was punctured by a rib, and his heart had been nicked. Kidney, spleen and liver - all damaged. He was bleeding out internally, and it was just a matter of what killed him first. The tape won - but the collapsed lung didn't help. As far as the fingertips go, they were removed by a fairly sharp knife with a smooth edge. Whoever did it knows a little bit about the human anatomy, as the majority of the cuts are clean. I found no fibers on him. The body was remarkably clean.  
  
"The other guy that just came in - Phillips? - quick look over confirms he was stabbed multiple times. I counted at least 10 wounds. He also has defensive wounds and bruises on his arms and hands."  
  
He looked at Catherine. "You already scraped under his nails, right?"  
  
Catherine nodded. "Yep - back at the office. Anyway of telling if the same knife was used on Rivers and Phillips? It's a little too coincidental that both are murdered the same night, but the MO's are so different."  
  
"Too early to know Catherine. It'll be hard proving anything without the weapon, because the stab wounds are so different then the slicing wounds." Robbins smiled. "Get me the knife that did this, I might be able to help you."  
  
"Have you already bagged up the clothes?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Bagged and gone. Greg has them up in the lab already, along with the lovely note that was stapled to his forehead. And I should warn you, Nick is here. He's bored. He wants to help." Robbins grinned. "If I were you I'd try to get him out of here before Ecklie finds out. If he evens thinks Nick is working on a case in anyway, he'll go straight to Mobley."  
  
Grissom sighed. "Yeah. I'll talk to him - he should know better. Have you started the autopsy on Phillips yet, or just the visual?"  
  
"Visual. Autopsy will start in about 20 minutes."  
  
"Great. I'll be back for that. Talk to you then."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"God grief, Nick! Go home and change already." Warrick was pouring himself a coffee when Nick walked into the lounge. "The more I see that shirt, the more it hurts my eyes."  
  
"Nice to see you too, Warrick!" Nick grinned cheekily. "And don't complain - if you hadn't let Greg do the shopping, you wouldn't have to look at it." He grabbed a coffee cup, and extended his hand. Warrick poured him a coffee, shaking his head.  
  
"What are you doing here, man? Internal Affairs isn't so quick that they've lifted your suspension yet. I thought we wouldn't be seeing your ugly mug around here for at least a couple of days!"  
  
"Not his ugly mug." Sara countered, as she walked into the lounge lugging a big box of files. "It's Grissom's. Greg bought it for him last Christmas." Warrick rolled his eyes at her, groaning.  
  
Nick grinned into his coffee. "Hey Sara. Can you take a break? Thought we could go out for a bite to eat before I head back to my place."  
  
"Can't right now, Nick. Look at all this crap I pulled from River's cubicle at K-ROX. I have to go through it and see if I can find anything interesting, and Grissom just ordered Chinese for everyone." Sara looked at him and smiled. "You bored?"  
  
Nick grunted. "Witless. This suspension stuff is for the birds. Maybe Grissom will let me help on the sly?"  
  
Warrick laughed. "Right. And have Ecklie complaining about tainted evidence? I don't think so, Nick."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So you're telling me that someone poked straight pins into his eardrums?" Grissom looked at Robbins, who nodded as he handed him a small Petri dish holding the straight pins in question.  
  
"I've managed to pull 10 so far. Six from the left ear and 4 from the right. I think there's still a couple in the right ear, but they're hard to get out. These definitely would have inserted into the ears after death. They've gone in too neatly, and even if Mr. Phillips here had been unconscious, the pins puncturing his ear-drums would have caused reflex jerks. Other than that, I have nothing new to add. He died of his stab wounds."  
  
Grissom was looking at the pins. They glinted red in the lights. "Straight pins and punctured eardrums. And a dead DJ who may or may not have been murdered by the same guy - suffocated by video tape. Gut instinct tells me these two murders are related - there's no such thing as coincidence. Hear no evil, speak no evil? I wish we had something else to work with. I wonder if Greg has found anything." 


	5. MEAT BULLETS

V - MEAT BULLETS  
  
Sara looked up from the papers she had been reading, glancing at Warrick. "Find anything?"  
  
Warrick, who was sifting through the stacks Catherine and Grissom had collected in Phillips' office, shook his head.  
  
"Not really. Just a bunch of memorandums, some letters - you know."  
  
Sara nodded. "I've basically got the same over here. I'm wondering if they worked closely together - like, on a project or something? Maybe, we should try to see if anything I have from Rivers cubicle coincides with what Cath and Grissom pulled from Phillips? I mean, I'm sure the office policies, memorandums - whatever - they'll match. But there might be something else."  
  
Warrick shrugged his agreement. "Can't hurt. And Brass was going to bring Waters here - you know, the other half of the morning show - we should talk to him."  
  
"Catherine is already doing that - remember? She's been down there for 30 minutes already."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So, Rivers didn't have anyone who was angry with him? No threats? No recent altercations we should be aware of?"  
  
Jon Waters looked at Catherine blankly. "Enemies? Randy? No way. He was a great guy - everyone loved him. And he was really involved in a lot of extra-curricular stuff outside the station - he was always doing guest appearances for charities. He even coached for the special Olympics. He was a great guy!"  
  
Brass was grim. "Obviously, someone didn't think so. What about your station manager? Phillips?"  
  
"Well, he could be a bit of a hard-ass sometimes. Everything with him was the bottom line - you know, ad revenue, play lists, that sort of thing. But we all respected him. He wasn't my best friend, or anything, but I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him either."  
  
Catherine was looking at Jon intently, studying him for signs of nervousness or deceit. She didn't see any. "Didn't you and Rivers just recently start working together? Your show is relatively new, isn't it? The guy that you two replaced - was he angry about losing his job?"  
  
"Stephens? Nah. He's working at a sister station owned by the main company - out in California. He wanted to move because his wife's family lives there, and she wanted to be closer to them. He was thrilled when they moved him!"  
  
Brass and Catherine looked at each other. Brass shrugged. "Did Phillips have to fire anyone recently? Anyone reprimanded?"  
  
"Listen, I've been there for 3 months now. No one's been fired, no one's left, no one's been in trouble. I'm telling you, it's not someone from our station that did this, and I don't know who did."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Waters. We appreciate your taking the time to talk to us. Just one more thing before you go - was there anything they were working on together? Anything at all that would link them?"  
  
"No. I mean other than normal station stuff, not really. They didn't socialize outside of work." Waters looked thoughtful, before adding. "But Randy and I are judging the Las Vegas Alt. Rock Battle of the Bands. The station is one of the sponsors, so Phillips was pretty involved in that. The final battle is - was - supposed to be in a couple of days."  
  
"Who else is involved in the judging? Who are the other sponsors?" Brass asked.  
  
"Why? You think there might be a link?" Waters looked suddenly alarmed.  
  
Catherine gave him a reassuring smile, and said soothingly. "No, probably no link there. But we will need the names of the other people involved. Just to be safe. 'No stone unturned' - that's our motto."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom walked into Greg's lab, muttering to himself. In his hand, he still held the small dish of straight pins. Robbins had finally managed to extract the last two, and Grissom was taking them to the lab to give to Greg.  
  
"Hey Greg. Find anything?"  
  
Greg looked up from his microscope. "Not really. I've got the blood samples running, but so far, everything looks on the up and up. Didn't get anything from the scrapings on Phillips. He obviously didn't scratch his attacker. What's that?"  
  
He nodded at the dish in Grissom's hand. "Straight pins. Robbins pulled them from the ears of the station manager." He shook his head. "Twelve of them - punctured the eardrums."  
  
"Oh. Want me to test them for anything? I don't think I'll find anything, but you never know."  
  
"Yeah. See if maybe our culprit stuck himself by mistake. Check the blood. Anything on the video?"  
  
"Well, I only managed to salvage about 10 viewable frames. And you're not going to believe this - it's a music video."  
  
Grissom perked up. "Really? Any idea which one?"  
  
"You already know, Grissom. Sara told me all about it."  
  
"What?" Grissom looked confused, and then sighed. "Video Killed the Radio Star. Guy has a sick sense of humor. How do you know it's that video.?"  
  
"Taped off MTV - there's a perfect frame with the song name printed on it in the corner."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Everyone looked up when Grissom and Greg walked into the lounge. Catherine had arrived moments earlier, and was chatting quietly with Warrick. Sara was still muttering over the myriad of papers she was reading, a small frown marring her features.  
  
"Where's Nick?" It was the first thing Grissom asked.  
  
Warrick looked at him and smiled. "He's on suspension, remember?"  
  
Grissom grunted. "I know he was here - Robbins told me. Did he leave?" No one answered him. Grissom narrowed his gaze on Sara, who was studiously avoiding looking at him. "Sara? Where's Nick?"  
  
Nothing. Grissom glanced at Catherine, who merely raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.  
  
"Okay, fine. Since I don't see him here I'll trust that he came to his senses and left before I had to say something to him. If that is not the case, than I expect the next person who sees him to tell him to go home. He will be allowed back when his suspension is lifted." Slowly, Grissom walked towards Sara, smiling. "Got that Sara?"  
  
Sara nodded at Grissom and smiled sweetly. Grissom leaned over the vinyl two-seater, and grinned at Nick, who was hunched in the corner on the floor.  
  
"Got that Nick?"  
  
Everyone laughed. "Man. How did you know I was here?" Nick sighed, as he slowly stood up.  
  
"I'm trained to observe Nick. And besides, there was still an imprint in the cushion next to Sara when I walked in. Now go home. Brass was hoping to hear fro Internal Affairs before lunch time, so come in with Sara tomorrow evening and hopefully, you can stay."  
  
Grissom looked at his watch. "There's not much time left on the shift anyway. Sara - you find anything interesting?"  
  
"Nope. Nothing."  
  
Grissom looked at Warrick, who shook his head and shrugged.  
  
"Greg has some tests running, but so far nothing. Catherine?"  
  
"Brass and I interviewed Waters. He's got a firm alibi for Phillips - everyone saw him at the charity event Rivers was also supposed to attend. We're still trying to confirm for Rivers, but I don't think he knows anything that happened. He wasn't really able to provide anything as far as potential perpetrators. He mentioned something about a battle of the bands - K-ROX is one of the sponsors, and he and Rivers judged. There're four other judges, so we'll check them out, but so far that's the only obvious link."  
  
Greg sat up. "Is this the K-ROX Alt. Rox Battle Royale?" When Catherine nodded, Greg grinned. "Cool. Did you know the winning band gets to record a CD of original music at Pity Party Recording Studio? And guaranteed radio play and promotion on K-ROX? A friend of mine is in a band that's competing in the finals."  
  
Grissom raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do you think he might come in and talk to us? Let us know if any of the bands that have been eliminated are angry or upset?"  
  
Greg nodded. "I'm sure he would. I tell him about this place all the time. He even named his band 'Meat Bullets'."  
  
Everyone laughed. "What? That's a great name for a band! I'll call him later this afternoon, see if he'll come in first thing when shift starts."  
  
Grissom glanced at his watch again, sighing. "Okay, then. Go home, get some sleep. No one's going to care if you leave 15 minutes early. And Nick - hopefully, we'll see you tonight!"  
  
_________  
  
Author's note - A BIG shout out to SOBELL, who recaps the show at Television Without Pity - I had to steal Meat Bullets because it so fits with this story. I hope you don't mind! If you do, and you read this story, let me know and I'll change it. For those of you unfamiliar, Television Without Pity is the best place to go to read recaps of all the shows. 


	6. HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN

VI - HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN  
  
Grissom was nervous. Nervous and uncomfortable. Truth be told, if Catherine hadn't already set this up, he wouldn't be going. He had too many other things to work on - the K-ROX murders, for one - and the thought of having dinner with a perfect stranger did not appeal.  
  
Sometimes Catherine was a little too presumptuous, Grissom mused. She had known him for 10 years now, and she knew he was uncomfortable in situations like this. He had a hard enough time relating to people he knew. Of course, he had told her he was going to try opening himself up more to the possibilities around him, but still! Just because he said it didn't mean he was going to become a new man overnight!  
  
His thoughts turned to Sara and Nick. They both seemed so happy, and he was honestly pleased for them. It was okay for him to be disappointed for himself, though - wasn't it? After all, he had imagined himself in love with Sara for years. It was her fault that he now wanted someone to share things with on a more intimate level than ever before. But now, she was with Nick - so where did that leave him?  
  
Grissom nervously straightened his tie as he stepped into Rosa's Italiano Ristorante, quickly looking around.  
  
"Can I help you, sir?" The voice of the hostess broke into his thoughts.  
  
"I'm supposed to be meeting someone here for dinner - my name's Gil Grissom."  
  
"Ah - yes. Right this way sir." Grissom followed the young lady to a table in the far corner. There was a striking looking woman waiting for him, all long dark hair loosely pulled back with a hair clip, wearing a beautiful red pant suit. She stood, and held out her hand.  
  
"Gil Grissom? Mandy Brown. How do you do?"  
  
Grissom shook the proffered hand politely. "Fine thank you. And you?"  
  
Mandy flashed him a charming smile. "Fine. Shall we?" Both sat down. Grissom silently placed his pager and his cell phone on the table to his left. He was uncomfortable. Mandy finally took it upon herself to break the awkward silence.  
  
"So, Gil. I've heard a lot about you from Catherine. She tells me you're a brilliant CSI! What is your field of specialty again?  
  
"Entomology - bugs." Grissom's reply was brief. He looked expectantly at Mandy.  
  
"Bugs? How does that apply to Crime Scenes Investigations?"  
  
Grissom smiled. "It's very interesting really. We can often determine the age of a corpse we may find by the level of bug infestation. For example, if there are no mugs present, we know the body is fresh - if there are eggs and pupa present, older. We can also tell by the type of insects we find on a body how old the body is - some won't inhabit a corpse until the flesh has already started rotting, so." Grissom stopped talking as they were interrupted by the waiter, who had come to take their order. Grissom order a steak, rare, with a Caesar salad and linguine and hot pepper side dish. He looked expectantly at Mandy, who looked ill.  
  
"I'll just have the Shrimp Alfredo, please." She smiled weakly at Grissom. The waiter left.  
  
"Anyway, as I was saying, some bugs -" Grissom stopped talking and he looked at Mandy again. She was definitely green. He looked at his hands, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry. Probably not an appropriate discussion just before dinner. So, what do you do? You're a lawyer, right?"  
  
Mandy nodded. "I'm a divorce lawyer. That's how I met Catherine. I handled her divorce for her." Again, an uncomfortable silence. Grissom glanced furtively at Mandy. She seemed very tense. He sighed.  
  
"A divorce lawyer. I'm assuming, from all the recent stats, that you're very busy."  
  
"Yes, my day is always full. So, what else do you do, besides study bugs?" she shuddered.  
  
"I'm a forensic scientist, just like Catherine. We study crime scenes and try to find clues in physical evidence left behind. Sometimes a single fiber will give us the clue we need to break open a case. Sometimes it's just keen observation. We just wrapped a case the other day that started off with the murder and sexual abuse of a little boy, and ended up with the murder of a man who had been physically and sexually abusing his daughter and wife, and had murdered his sister and at least 12 other children we know of. And the only reason we caught him is because of clues we were able to piece together from the first victim and from his mother, after she admitted to killing her child." Grissom smiled at Mandy. She didn't smile back, just looked at him. She didn't look happy.  
  
"Do you have any interests outside work?" she asked, pointedly.  
  
Grissom nodded. "I read, I breed and race beetles at bug races across the state - I, uhm - I like crossword puzzles. Golf, too."  
  
Mandy didn't look impressed. When Grissom's buzzer sounded, she looked almost relieved. Grissom quickly looked at his pager.  
  
"Excuse me for one second." He said, picking up his phone, and quickly punching in the number. "I have to call back - this is urgent. Hey Brass. Grissom. What's up? Okay, Nick's suspension is lifted - that's good news. Yeah - what else? Another one? Okay - you're holding it for us since they all appear to tie together, or is Ecklie fussing? Yeah - Fussing. That's what I thought. Okay, I'll meet you there." He hung up, and looked at Mandy. "I'm so sorry. We've got a body that may tie in with a case we're working on, and I have to leave to process it. Maybe a raincheck?"  
  
"No. No - that's not necessary, Gil. It's been nice meeting you, though." Mandy stood, obviously relieved, and shook his hand. "I'll stay here and have my dinner. You go on. Say hi to Catherine for me."  
  
Grissom merely nodded, and flagged the waiter over. "I have to leave - emergency. My friend here is staying though. Can I get the bill, and I'll pay before I go?"  
  
"You're dinner is almost ready, sir. Would you like a doggy bag?"  
  
Grissom nodded again, as he handed the waiter his credit card. "Thanks." He looked at Mandy, and smiled grimly. "I'm sorry. I get the impression you weren't expecting someone like me. I hope you won't be too upset with Catherine."  
  
Mandy waived off his apology. "I'm sure you're a very nice man, Gil. But, honestly - you should find someone who shares the same interests as you. Bugs and blood - they make me squeamish."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine was standing beside Brass when Grissom arrived at the crime scene. She smiled at him sympathetically as he walked over to them. Grissom frowned at her.  
  
Brass looked at Grissom, noting the tie and the suit, and grinned. "Where were you? Court?"  
  
"No. Date." Grissom's voice was clipped. "So, what have we got."  
  
"The other half of the morning show - Jon Waters. He's been shot in the back of the head, execution style. And the killer left us a message."  
  
"Didn't you guys just interview him last night?"  
  
Catherine nodded grimly. "Yes. He's the one who told us Rivers and Phillips had no enemies he could think of. I'm thinking we should send officers to all the judges of this battle of the bands K-ROX was sponsoring. It seems to be the only link so far, and if someone is targeting the judges and sponsors, they could all end up dead."  
  
The three slowly walked toward the body. Waters was lying face down just inside the entry way of his house. A large pool of blood soaked the carpet under what remained of his head. Blood splatter was everywhere. Grissom gingerly stepped into the narrow foyer, and looked on the opposite wall from where the body sprawled. 'Happiness is a Warm Gun' was written there in blood.  
  
"I hate it when killers reference the Beatles." Grissom sighed. 


	7. CROSSROADS

VII - CROSSROADS  
  
Catherine and Grissom were carefully picking over the crime scene. Catherine had just finished taking swabs from the writing on the wall, and Grissom was dusting for fingerprints. Every once in a while, Catherine would glance Grissom's way, trying to gauge his mood. He was not normally a jocular man, but she had expected that he would at least mention something about his date with Mandy. Finally, she could stand no more.  
  
"So -" she asked brightly, as she bagged the swabs "- how was your date."  
  
Grissom didn't even turn to look at her. "Dinner is in a Styrofoam box in my Tahoe."  
  
"Did Mandy mind?"  
  
"Nope. Not at all."  
  
Catherine smiled. "See? I told you she was great! Not at all like Terri, who ditched you when you got a call!"  
  
Grissom shrugged. "That's true. She's not like Terri." He started lifting the prints he had found on the inside of the doorway.  
  
"So, what did you think of her?" Before Grissom could respond, Catherine's cell phone rang. She looked at the call display, and grinned. "Speak of the devil!"  
  
Grissom sighed, and pretended to ignore Catherine as she answered her phone. 'Just keep lifting prints', he thought to himself. Of course, it was hard to miss Catherine's bright voice as she chirped into her phone - "Mandy! So nice to talk to you. So, what did you think?"  
  
Grissom winced as Catherine's tone got softer. Even though his back was to her, he could still feel her eyes boring into his back. He could just imagine her sympathy. She would feel guilty about this. He listened to her heels as she walked down the hallway, away from him and into the Water's kitchen.  
  
Great. Grissom lifted another print. Now he would have to contend with her condolences, her advice, the special tone of voice she used when delivering one of her patented Catherine pep talks. Just what he needed. Carefully walking over to his field kit, he gently placed the dozen or so prints he had pulled so far in to it. He was still crouching by his kit, deep in thought, when Catherine walked out of the kitchen. "Grissom." Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry."  
  
Grissom just nodded. He didn't want to look at her, so he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the prints sitting in his kit.  
  
"Don't worry about it Catherine. I'm a big boy - I can handle it."  
  
"She's a bitch."  
  
"No - she just doesn't like bugs and blood. And since I do, I guess we're not that compatible." Sighing, Grissom closed his kit, and stood up. "Let's tape this off and get back to the lab. I want to run these prints."  
  
Catherine nodded. "Okay. I was at the station when Brass got the call, so I'll head back with you."  
  
Picking up her kit, she quickly caught up with Grissom who was already half way to his Tahoe. She waved at Brass, who was still out front talking to several police officers, and hopped into Grissom's Tahoe, tossing her stuff into the back.  
  
"So - I know what Mandy told me - what's your version of events?" Catherine turned sideways facing Grissom as the Tahoe started moving. He still had not looked at her.  
  
"I don't really want to talk about this, Catherine." As if to prove his words, he leaned forward and flipped on his radio.  
  
"Grissom - come on. It couldn't have been that bad."  
  
Grissom merely snorted, and reached over to turn the radio up. Catherine immediately reached out to stop him, her pale hand resting on his. "Don't do this. Talk to me."  
  
Grissom looked at her hand, still on his, shot a quick glance her way, and looked back to the road. "Okay. What do you want to talk about? How's Lindsey doing?"  
  
"Grissom - Gil - please." Catherine's voice sounded hurt. Grissom shot another glance her way. Just as he had thought, her face was a mask of sympathy. Cursing under his breath, he quickly pulled over to the side of the road, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
"Fine." His voice was angry. "I blew it, okay. I talked to her about bugs and corpses. I told her I raced beetles. It didn't go well. She was glad when Brass called." he sighed.  
  
"Let's face it, Catherine. Some people are meant to be by themselves, and I am one of them. I don't know how to deal with people. And dating? Forget it! I can't have an interesting conversation with anyone. It's too hard. And I'm too old. A leopard cannot change its spots, and I don't know why I thought I could."  
  
Catherine's hand reached out to Grissom, resting on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Gil - why are you so hard on yourself? You're a wonderful man! You're intelligent, you're well-educated - you're fascinating! You're kind. You're gentle. You're very attractive-" Catherine's voice petered out. Grissom was looking at her in disbelief, his blue eyes piercing hers. She glanced at her hand, and quickly glanced up at him again.  
  
His smile was grim. "Oh yeah. I'm quite a catch. Nice of you to try to boost my ego, Catherine, but it's not going to work. I take back everything I said the other day. Who's going to want a die-hard bachelor who reads forensics magazines for fun and races bugs?"  
  
'I do.' Catherine suddenly realized. 'Oh my God. I want him.'  
  
'Great. She's at a loss for words.' Grissom thought to himself. He quickly turned away from her, freeing his shoulder, and started the Tahoe. His ears were red with humiliation.  
  
"Can't answer that one, can you Catherine?" His voice was tense as he pulled back on to the road. He reached out and turned on the radio again, turning the volume up full blast to save Catherine from responding. Don McLean's rich voice filled the silence of the Tahoe.  
  
~I've got nothing on my mind, nothing to remember, nothing to forget - and I've got nothing to regret.  
  
But I'm all tied up on the inside, no one knows quite what I've got;  
  
and I know that on the outside, what I used to be I'm not anymore.  
  
You know I've heard about people like me, but I never made the connection.  
  
They walk one road to set them free, and find they've gone the wrong direction.  
  
But there's no need for turning back, `cause all roads lead to where I stand.  
  
And I believe I'll walk them all - no matter what I may have planned.  
  
Can you remember who I was? Can you still feel it? Can you find my pain? Can you heal it?  
  
Then lay your hands upon me now, and cast this darkness from my soul.  
  
You alone can light my way. You alone can make me whole once again.  
  
We've walked both sides of every street, through all kinds of windy weather.  
  
But that was never our defeat, as long as we could walk together.  
  
So there's no need for turning back, `cause all roads lead to where we stand.  
  
And I believe we'll walk them all - no matter what we may have planned.~  
  
Catherine had leaned back into her seat, her eyes closed, as she listened to the song. She felt like crying. She didn't know what to say to him, how to ease his hurt without revealing what she had just learned about herself. Her heart was breaking, shattering into a million pieces. She was in love with her best friend, and she didn't know what to do about it.  
  
_____  
  
Author's Note: The song Catherine and Grissom listen to on the radio is called "Crossroads" by Don McLean. It is a beautiful song, and when I listened to it this morning, I immediately thought of them. Please R&R - let me know if this works for you all. 


	8. DISCUSSIONS

VIII - DISCUSSIONS  
  
Nick looked up from the files he was reading when Grissom and Catherine walked into the lounge. Catherine looked - different, somehow. The expression on her face was brittle and shuttered, and it was incongruous when compared to her normally open countenance. She didn't even acknowledge Warrick's greeting.  
  
Nick glanced at Grissom. His expression, normally sphinx-like, was one of barely controlled anger - and hurt? Embarrassment? Nick couldn't quite put his finger on it. But something was obviously going on.  
  
"Nick. I see you're catching yourself up on the files. That's good." Grissom's voice was curt. "We've got another body - Jon Waters, River's morning show partner. Shot in the back of the head. It's pretty obvious by now that we're hunting for the same killer for all three men. Sara - Warrick - see if you can get a list of everyone - contestants, stage hands - everyone - who is involved in this Battle of the Bands thing. It's as good a place as any to start. Nick, you keep reading the files from yesterday. Maybe fresh eyes will catch something the rest of us missed. Catherine - stick with Nick." He paused, and then forced a smile to his lips. "It's good to have you back. Did Greg bring his friend with him?"  
  
"Yes - he's showing him around the lab." Sara responded. She had been sitting by Nick, reading over his shoulder when Grissom and Catherine entered the lounge. She looked at Catherine curiously, before turning back to Grissom. "Did something happen?"  
  
"Yeah - another murder." Grissom snapped. "We don't have time for idle chit-chat. I'll go talk to Greg and his friend. Let's get a move on - we don't have all night!"  
  
Grissom turned and stalked out of the lounge. Sara, Warrick and Nick sat there in stunned silence for a moment.  
  
"What the hell was that all about?" Warrick muttered, as he rose to his feet. "Mobley giving him a hard time about something?" He turned to Catherine, who had poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table. She was looking blankly at a file sitting in front of her. Warrick looked at Sara, and she shook her head, shrugging.  
  
"C'mon Warrick. Let's go. If we're still here and Grissom walks by, he's gonna have our heads." She looked at Nick, jerking her head towards Catherine - 'Talk to her!' she mouthed at him, as she stood up. Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, she turned and left with Warrick trailing behind her.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom entered the lab, his expression still grim. 'Get a grip!' he told himself. 'She was only trying to help - you shouldn't have snapped at her like that - or at any one else for that matter.' He forced himself to tamp down on his anger, and actually managed to smile when he saw Greg and his friend. Grissom had always thought Greg's style was a little out there. His hair, on the best of occasions, always looked a little messy, and his clothes! If Grissom didn't know what a brilliant chemist Greg was, he would have thought he was a skateboarder or something. Greg, however, was absolutely tame in comparison to the young man standing next to him.  
  
Wearing a pair of grossly oversized ripped jeans in a violent shade of orange, his hair was spiked out in a multitude of different directions and each spike was a different color. Grissom supposed the young man would have been handsome if he knew how to dress and didn't have multiple piercings, but right now - he looked a little too *alternative* was a good word.  
  
Greg looked up at Grissom, smiling, and quickly made introductions. "Hey Grissom! This is my friend Ray Price. Ray, my boss - Gil Grissom."  
  
Ray held out his hand, smiling. Grissom tried not to stare at the hoop through his upper lip as they shook.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, man."  
  
"Uh - you too. Thanks for coming in." Grissom replied.  
  
"Not a problem. I doubt I'll have anything to tell you, but hey - Rivers was a good guy. I can't believe he was murdered."  
  
Grissom indicated a chair, and Ray sat down. Greg plopped down beside him, grinning. He was having a fun time watching Grissom as he tried not to stare at Ray's hair and hoops.  
  
"Well, we're wondering if there might be some connection to the Battle of the Bands contest. Were any of the competitors who were eliminated overly upset? Was anyone angry with Phillips?"  
  
"Nah, man. It was all cool. We're all a pretty tight knit group, so we all cheer each on."  
  
"Would you mind talking to a couple other CSIs, maybe tell them what you remember about the other bands? We need to get a list of all the competitors."  
  
"That's over 30 bands, man! I don't think I remember them all - you know, the ones that were eliminated early on. I'll try, though." Ray grinned at him. "You should come to the finals. I'm sure most of the bands that competed will be there."  
  
"I don't even know if there will be a final." Grissom interjected. "Not with two judges murdered, along with the main sponsors station manager."  
  
"Two judges?" Ray looked confused. "Who's the other one?"  
  
"Waters. Shot in the back of the head sometime after his shift this morning." Grissom's response was grim.  
  
Ray looked shocked. "Jon Waters? Why would anyone want to murder him?"  
  
"That's what we're trying to find out."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick put his file down, and walked over to the table Catherine was sitting at, sliding into the seat immediately to her left.  
  
"Cath? What's wrong?"  
  
Catherine shook her head, before looking up at Nick and smiling. "Nothing, Nick. Nothing at all."  
  
Nick would have believed her, if her smile didn't look like it was hurting her. Her eyes were bruised. "Don't give me that Catherine. Something is wrong. What happened?"  
  
Nick's obvious concern for her, coupled with her complete confusion over what had transpired in Grissom's Tahoe, caused tears to well in her eyes.  
  
"Oh Nick. I totally blew it."  
  
"What in the world are you talking about Catherine?"  
  
"I set Grissom up on a blind date." Catherine sighed.  
  
"I take it the date was a disaster?"  
  
Catherine nodded, miserably. "Total disaster. Gil is trying so hard to open up more, and I thought it might take his mind off you and Sara -" Catherine stopped and looked at Nick guiltily. "Not that I'm not happy for the two of you, but Grissom - he's so closed off emotionally, and I know it has to hurt him -"  
  
Nick laid a consoling hand on her arm. "Catherine. Grissom and I talked about this. Don't worry - I think he's accepting it better than you realize."  
  
"Well, that's beside the point, anyways. My friend didn't like him at all - you know Grissom - he's not much of a conversationalist, and -"  
  
"He talked about bugs, right? Maybe a little bit about some of our cases?" Nick sighed. "Poor Grissom!"  
  
"He was embarrassed. And it's my fault. And now he's going to shut himself off again, just when he was starting to open up more!" Catherine looked down at her hands. "And I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him! I'm so confused!"  
  
Nick studied Catherine intently. Her hands were clenched tightly together, and she was shaking. "Catherine. It can't be that bad," he began. He stopped when he she looked at him, her watery eyes locking with his own. He finally understood. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"  
  
Catherine nodded. "Yes. And I didn't even realize it until tonight. I was so angry at Mandy for embarrassing him, and it just - hit me! In the middle of my pep talk! This is terrible!"  
  
"What's so terrible about it, Catherine?" Nick asked gently. "You've known each other for years."  
  
"But that's the problem - we're just friends."  
  
"Sara and I were just friends, and look where we're at now." Nick sighed. "Catherine, you can't chose who you love. Sometimes, you can love someone and not even realize it, and then something will happen and BOOM! There it is. Grissom is - he's a hard man to get to know. He keeps himself locked up tight, and doesn't reveal a whole lot. But you know him - probably better than any one else here. And I think you'd be good for him."  
  
Catherine started protesting. "But he's - Sara -"  
  
"This has nothing to do with Sara. Sure, he might have been attracted to her, but he never acted on it. And maybe part of the attraction for him was just the fact that she's Sara. He's safe with her, and he didn't need to act on it - he could just admire her from afar because he knew he couldn't have a relationship with her. I honestly don't know. But Catherine - you challenge him. He admires you. He respects you. You're the only one who he really listens too. Do you think any of the rest of us could ever get him to go out on a blind date?" Nick grinned. "There's no way! So, why would he do it for you?"  
  
Catherine just looked at him. Nick smiled again. "And I'll tell you something else, Catherine. I waited for two years before I acted on my feelings for Sara. Part of it was Grissom, and part of it was because I was scared she wouldn't feel the same and I would wreck a good friendship. But you know what? I'm glad I took the chance. It was a relief to tell her, and look were it led me. I'm happier than I've ever been. If I'd never told her, I'd be missing this now."  
  
Nick gripped Catherine's shoulders, shaking her gently. "You have to tell him, Catherine. Maybe nothing will come of it. But maybe something will. Do something for yourself for once - what you want - what you need! - and stop worrying about the rest of us. You deserve to be happy, and so does Grissom. I think he could be happy with you."  
  
Catherine smiled weakly at Nick. "Since when did you start giving such good advice?"  
  
"Since I started listening to yours." Nick's tone was teasing. He leaned forward and kissed Catherine on the forehead, gently wiping her eyes. "I want you to be as happy as I am. Hiding from your feelings is never good, you're always telling me that. So listen to your own advice for a change. Don't hide from this. Embrace it - you never know where it will lead."  
  
Catherine slowly picked up a file. "I'll think about what you've said. Thanks Nicky - you're a good friend." 


	9. FINGERPRINTS

IX - FINGERPRINTS  
  
Warrick and Sara were sitting in interview room one, laughing with Ray, when Greg stuck his head in the door.  
  
"Grissom here?" he asked, smiling at them. "I've got some news for him on the prints he pulled from the last crime scene."  
  
Warrick shook his head. "No - he went down to talk to Robbins. Hey Greg, how much influence do you have on the alt. rock scene?"  
  
Greg stepped into the room, smiling. "Why?"  
  
"We were laughing at some of the band names. Obviously - Meat Bullets." he grinned at Ray. "But 'Sex Combs Reduced' - that's definitely you."  
  
Greg grinned. "You have to admit, some of those neat bug terms Grissom reams off sometimes are good names for alternative bands."  
  
Sara laughed. "And Ray here was telling us you also came up with 'Let's Get Grumpy'? What's that all about?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "I was pissed off at Grissom one day, and was complaining to one of the guys how grumpy he always was. He suggested we get him. We came up with dozens of scenarios for getting Grissom and making him say 'thank you' to me. We called it Operation: Let's Get Grumpy. When Dave and some friends formed a band, that's what they called themselves."  
  
"Yeah, man. They rock out." Ray added. Warrick and Sara just looked at each other, and started laughing.  
  
"Okay. I don't think I'll be able to look at Grissom for the rest of the day without snickering." Warrick's grin was ear to ear. "How do you know all these guys, Greg?"  
  
Greg looked a little embarrassed. "Well, you know, I do have a life outside of CSI."  
  
Ray smiled at Sara and Warrick. "Greg here's being too modest. He's an excellent drummer - at one point or another, he's played with all of us. If we could ever convince him to quit his job, he could get a full time gig as a session drummer or with one of the better bands in Nevada."  
  
"You're a drummer?" Warrick looked amazed. "I never knew you were a musician!"  
  
Greg shrugged. "That's because I'm a chemist. I just play for fun, but I wouldn't want to do it fulltime. Too much pressure!"  
  
"And there's none here. This is such a worry-free job - no deadlines - no responsibilities -" Sara teased. "I have to say, I never suspected Greg. You're an International Man of Mystery."  
  
Greg grinned. "Yep. Just like Austin Powers, I am both groovy and shagadelic! Catch up with me before you leave, Ray. I gotta go find Grissom."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine was slowly working her way to the bottom of the papers in the second box they had dragged from Phillips office. She had tried to bury her conversation with Nick at the back of her mind, but every once in a while she would look at him and smile. He was a good guy, and he'd given her a lot to think about. Sighing, she pulled out a small stack of paper, rifling through the pages. An unopened letter was stuck between the pages.  
  
Catherine pulled it out and looked at it. No return address. Gingerly, she opened it up and pulled out the single sheet of paper. "Nick - come take a look at this."  
  
Nick slid his chair towards her, the legs of it scratching against the marble flooring. "'You are a dead man, Phillips. You wouldn't know real musical talent if it bit you on the ass. You CAN NOT HEAR musical genius when it is right in front of you. I DESERVE to win. RIVERS should not be the voice of K-ROX. You made a mistake when you turned me away.'"  
  
He frowned as he quickly read the note, and then carefully picked up the envelope by the edges. "I can't make out the entire post mark, but it looks like it was mailed about 3 days before he was murdered. Let's see if we can blow this up, see where it was mailed from. And I'll dust it for prints. Maybe Greg can get a DNA sample from the stamp or backing, if the guy licked it."  
  
"And we should see if there is any mail that's been received for Rivers or Waters at K-ROX in the last day or so. If a letter was sent to Phillips, maybe one was sent to them." Catherine looked at the letter again. "And we can now say with almost 100% certainty that someone involved in this Battle of the Bands is our main suspect."  
  
"Gives the term 'frustrated musician' a whole new meaning." Nick sighed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was just stepping out of Robbins office when Greg practically ran into him.  
  
"Grissom! There you are. I've got news on the prints you pulled from the Waters crime scene."  
  
Grissom snapped testily at Greg. "Why didn't you page me? You know I've been waiting for these."  
  
Greg blinked at him. "I did page you. Several times. I thought I would come looking for you when you didn't respond." Greg tried to keep his voice even, but he was angry. Grissom could see it in the sudden tightening of the young man's face. Quickly patting his pockets and his belt, he realized he didn't have his pager on him. He must have left it in his office. Shit.  
  
"Greg. I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad mood today. I - uhm - I don't have my pager with me. I shouldn't have snapped at you." He looked at Greg. "I apologize."  
  
Greg looked at Grissom in shock. Grissom never apologized for anything. This was a first. He suddenly grinned. "Well, I'll let it pass this time Grissom, but only if you admit I'm the best lab tech you ever had."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow, unsure whether to be amused or angry. He smiled when he saw the teasing glint in Greg's eyes, before responding seriously. "You are the best lab tech I ever had Greg." He noticed Greg's obvious start of surprise, and he clapped the young man on the shoulder. "I might not tell you that enough - "  
  
"Ever!" Greg interrupted.  
  
"But you are. I expect a lot from you, and you always rise to meet the challenge. So, in case I don't get around to saying this again anytime soon, I appreciate the work you do around here, and I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions when I should know better. So tell me, what do you have?"  
  
Greg was staring at Grissom, mouth agape. He blinked a couple of times before flashing Grissom a high-voltage grin. "The fingerprints you pulled along the hallway, and some of the ones on the floor around the body? They were plants."  
  
"Plants? What do you mean." Grissom was suddenly intrigued.  
  
"From the pictures I've matched the prints to; they weren't lining up where they should have. For example, where I would expect the prints to run thumb, forefinger, middle finger, etc., they ran forefinger, pinky, thumb, ring finger. There's no way someone could leave prints like that without contorting their hand in an impossible manner." Greg grinned. "So, I ran the prints that didn't fall in any type of proper order, and found a match. Our guy used Rivers' fingertips to leave them. The ones he chopped off when he killed Rivers."  
  
Grissom smiled, and clapped Greg on the shoulder for the second time that night. "Nice work, Greg. Really nice."  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: Thanks for the reviews - I really appreciate them! This story is starting to get really interesting - at least for me. There are some fun chapters coming up, I'll try to post them as quickly as possible, so keep looking for them - and keep reviewing! Thanks! 


	10. YOU HAVE BEAUTIFUL EYES, GIL

X - YOU HAVE BEAUTIFUL EYES, GIL  
  
"Greg! Grissom!" Nick's voice echoed down the hallway. "Just the guys I'm looking for." He strode quickly towards them, lifting his arm as he got closer. "Grissom - I believe this is yours? I saw it sitting on your desk when I went looking for you in your office." He tossed it towards Grissom, who caught it easily. With a wry look and a shrug, he quickly attached it to his belt. "Brass is looking for you. He's in the lounge."  
  
Grissom sighed. "Okay. We need to confab anyway. Nick, can you grab Sara and Warrick, tell them to meet me there? And, I assume Catherine is down there right now?"  
  
"She might still be there. She was going to run up to K-ROX, and pick up some mail that Waters and Rivers received in the last day or so." He glanced pointedly at Grissom, adding in an undertone. "Clear her head a little bit."  
  
"Why? Isn't she feeling well?"  
  
Nick shrugged. "Don't ask me, Griss. Ask her."  
  
"Why is she going to K-ROX?"  
  
"We found a letter, and we're pretty sure it's from the killer." Nick glanced at Greg. "It's sitting in the lab with the envelope, waiting for you to do your magic, Greggo."  
  
Greg smiled. "Fingerprints, DNA, yada yada yada. I'm on it." Nodding to Grissom, Greg left the two men standing in the hallway.  
  
"Anything else I should know about?" Grissom questioned.  
  
Nick shrugged. "Nothing pertaining to the case." His answer was deliberately vague. Grissom frowned at him.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You hurt Catherine's feelings today, Grissom. She's still upset about it."  
  
"I hurt her feelings? She's the one that wouldn't leave it alone." Grissom grumbled. He looked at Nick, concerned. "Is she mad at me?"  
  
"No. She's just upset. She thinks you're mad at her." Nick's gaze was steady. "Are you angry with her, Grissom?"  
  
"Why would I be angry at Catherine?" Grissom asked, honestly surprised.  
  
Nick smiled. "I don't know. C'mon. Brass is waiting." * * * * *  
  
"So, the murders are definitely linked, then." Brass gruff voice sounded relieved. "Good to know we're looking for just one murderer and not three."  
  
Grissom looked up sharply. "I didn't say one perpetrator, Brass. I said linked. If this Battle of the Bands theory proves valid, we could have some crazy alt. rock band running around killing people."  
  
"That would explain the different MO's." Sara added. "I mean, why cut off Rivers fingertips, and not the other two victims? One is beaten to death, one is stabbed - the other shot? What respectable murderer works like that?" Sara's tone was sarcastic, as was the smirk on her face.  
  
"No. I think it's only one guy." Nick inserted. "In the letter, he refers to himself alone. Why do that if you're working with others?"  
  
"Unless he's trying to throw us off." Warrick contributed. "Maybe they want us to think it's only one person. At the same time, this no MO thing could be our killers' MO. Who knows?"  
  
Brass pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. "So, we're going to check out competing bands, starting with the ones eliminated. All the other judges have been warned to be very aware of their surroundings, so hopefully - no more murders. Greg is running tests on the letter and envelope. We have prints from a dead guy all over our most recent crime scene. And Catherine is at K-ROX, pretending she's a mail man." He sighed. "And we keep referring to our perpetrator as a he. Are we all reasonably sure it's a man?"  
  
Sara nodded. "None of our victims are small men. And in the case of Rivers and Phillips, there was definitely an inordinate amount of physical coercion. I just can't figure out why we don't have any skin or hair follicles or anything. You would think something would be there."  
  
"But there always is something there, Sara." Grissom inserted. "We just haven't found it yet."  
  
Greg knocked on the lounge door, and walked in when everyone looked at him. "Before you ask, I haven't found anything on the letter yet. I pulled some prints, and have them running - but a lot of people touch a letter while it's being processed through the post office, so I don't know what we'll find. The envelope was sealed with water. Stamp too, so no DNA. I just wanted to ask if you guys are going to get handwriting samples from the people you question. Painting with blood is a little different from writing it in ink, but we can still match letter formation. And a quick look at the letter Phillips received and the note stapled to his forehead - I'd say they're written by the same person."  
  
Brass' phone rang before any one could respond. Brass quickly excused himself and stepped out into the hallway. Greg walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup, before turning back towards the doorway just as Brass stepped back in.  
  
"I just got a call informing me that there's going to be a tribute concert to Rivers and Waters at a club called The Edge tomorrow night. A lot of the local alt. rock bands are going to be there performing. It might be a good idea for us to go and talk to people."  
  
Greg started laughing, and Brass looked at him in annoyance. "What's so funny Greg?"  
  
"Sorry. It's just hard to picture you and Grissom anywhere near a place with a mosh pit."  
  
Grissom looked at Greg. "Mosh pit? Doesn't sound good. What time does this thing start, Brass?"  
  
"9:00 pm sharp. I'll meet you guys there."  
  
"Uhm - Brass?" Greg interrupted. "Can I suggest you don't wear a suit? Dress casual, you know. Jeans and t-shirt, that sort of thing. You're going to stand out enough as it is, but if you go in there screaming 'establishment' no one will talk to you." Greg turned to look at Grissom. "You too, Gris."  
  
Brass was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Shaking his head, he walked out of the room.  
  
"Grissom, I think we should bring Greggo with us." Warrick looked at Grissom as he spoke. "He's familiar with the scene, and seems to have a lot of friends in the industry from what Ray told us. They trust him. Maybe he can help us out."  
  
Greg smiled as Grissom nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Okay - want to come with us Greg?" At Greg's nod, Grissom continued. "So, then. We'll all meet here around 8:00 and go as a group." He rose to his feet, stretching. "I'm going to be in my office - paperwork." He grimaced in distaste. "When Catherine gets back, could you ask her to come find me? And let me know if you guys come up with anything else."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Roughly 30 minutes later, Catherine walked into Grissom's office. "You wanted to see me?"  
  
Grissom glanced up from his desk, nodding absently. "Hey Catherine. Any luck at K-ROX?"  
  
Catherine just shook her head, and answered briefly. "Nope."  
  
Grissom looked at her again, frowning, surprised at her brief answer. "Care to elaborate?"  
  
Catherine ran a slim hand through her hair and shrugged. "No mail. What else is there to say?"  
  
Grissom's eyes narrowed. "Okay, I get it. This is about our conversation in the car, right? I'm sorry if I upset you, but I really didn't want to talk about it. I was embarrassed. Feel better?"  
  
Catherine looked at him, her eyes flashing. "Don't condescend to me, Grissom. I should never have set you up on a blind date to begin with, and I'm sorry I put you in an awkward position, but I don't need *this* - whatever it is." She stood abruptly, tapping her foot impatiently. "Do you need anything else? Or can I leave?"  
  
Grissom sighed. He looked confused, and more than a little annoyed. "No. We're not finished yet. Shut the door."  
  
Catherine jerkily did as he requested, before turning to face him again. "Can we make this quick? I have to call Lindsey."  
  
"Fine. What the hell is going on, Catherine?"  
  
"I don't know, you tell me."  
  
"I don't know. I'm not used to this. I can't figure out why you're upset with me, and it bothers me. I'm tense, and you're pissing me off. So, spill it. What's really going on?"  
  
Catherine sighed, and the anger seemed to drain from her. "Nothing's going on. It's not you, it's me. I'm sorry." She looked at him, and smiled tentatively. "Friends?"  
  
"Always." Grissom walked over to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."  
  
"You didn't disappoint me, Gil. I just - I -" she paused, suddenly at a loss for words. "Did you know you're my best friend? I would never want to jeopardize that."  
  
Grissom smiled at her gently. "There is nothing you could do that would ever wreck our friendship, Catherine." He sighed. "I'm not so sure about myself though. Please promise me, if I ever do anything that upsets you - tell me."  
  
Grissom was staring at Catherine, his blue eyes penetrating. Catherine stared at him intently, noticing the green flecks that seemed to shift through them. She could feel the heat from his hands on her shoulders radiating through her body. Her heart was pounding. Without volition, she sighed. "You have the most beautiful eyes, did you know that Gil?"  
  
Grissom immediately stiffened, and Catherine flushed a deep red. Abruptly, she turned from him, and the sudden loss of her shoulders caused Grissom's hands to drop awkwardly to his sides. She quickly walked to the door, opened it, and left without saying another word.  
  
Grissom was left standing in the middle of his office, staring after her. His hands were still burning where they had rested on her shoulders. He lifted one, studying the palm intently. Catherine thought he had beautiful eyes. He smiled, and then sighed. What the hell had just happened?  
  
_____ 


	11. THE EDGE

XI - THE EDGE  
  
"Schoolhouse Rocks - awesome!" Nick grinned at Sara as he flopped down on the sofa beside her. She rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee.  
  
"I can't believe you are making me stay up with you to watch cartoons!" she grumbled. "Couldn't we just go to bed? Please?"  
  
Nick threw an arm around her shoulders, and Sara didn't resist as he pulled her against his side. "Plenty of time for that later, Sara." He teased. "A man's gotta rest, you know."  
  
Sara giggled. "You are so conceited! C'mon, Nicky - I'm tired! I need some sleep."  
  
"Patience Grasshopper!" Nick intoned, trying his best to sound like Grissom. "You will sleep in good time. First, you must watch Schoolhouse Rocks with me - I don't want to watch it by myself."  
  
Sara smiled, and yawned. "You are such a kid - I can't believe you have it on DVD!" She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, and immediately regretted it when he sucked his breathe in sharply. "Ouch. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting you're hurt. How's the bruise?"  
  
"Getting better. You have pointy elbows." Nick grabbed the remote and pressed play. "You know, Schoolhouse Rocks was my favorite when I was a kid. That and Mighty Mouse! What did you watch Saturday mornings, Sara?"  
  
"My parents didn't believe in watching TV unless it was for educational purposes, so no Saturday Morning cartoons for me. I did watch a lot of Lorne Greene's New Wilderness." Sara grinned, settling more comfortably against Nick's side as the DVD started. "I knew more about the mating rituals of three-toed sloth's than any other kid in the third grade!"  
  
"That must have made you real popular." Nick snorted dryly. "I bet you were a real intellectual kid."  
  
Sara sighed. "That's just a euphemism for great big geek. I had no friends. I just couldn't relate to other kids, you know. My father always used to tell me I was an old soul." Her voice was wistful.  
  
Nick turned slightly, a soft smile on his face. "You never talk about your parents. Why?"  
  
"They both died a long time ago. My parents were archeologists - I get my love of bones from them. Mom was 45 when I was born - my dad was 50. They loved me - but I was like an alien life form. They never treated me like a child. I remember when I was about 4 years old, I helped my father assemble a skeleton of a Neanderthal for some museum exhibit. He was a really interesting man. He died when I was 16 - brain tumor. My mother - she was never the same after that. She just sort of - drifted - without him. It was like she was drowning. She swallowed a handful of sleeping pills a few years later." Sara's voice was matter of fact.  
  
"Jesus, Sara." Nick's voice was infinitely gentle. "So, you were what? 18? 19? Both parents dead. Did you move in with family? What did you do?"  
  
"I carried on. I had already been accepted to Harvard, and my parents were relatively well off. They left me everything. But I was basically on my own after that. My grandparents were all dead, and mom and dad were both single children. I'm the last of the line."  
  
Sara looked at Nick, smiling. "It's okay, Nicky. I survived. I don't talk about them a lot because I miss them." She rubbed a hand against his face, reveling in the rough stubble under her hand. "My dad always told me one day I would find the missing piece of myself, and I would never be lonely again. I'd like to tell him he was right."  
  
Nick turned his head slightly, and kissed her palm.  
  
"'I miss your touch ~ upon my skin ~ I miss your love and warmth within ~ But most of all ~ Whoever you are ~ I miss you.'"  
  
"Exactly. That's exactly what I mean. Who wrote that?" Sara's voice was soft.  
  
Nick blushed. "I wrote it, a long time ago. And now I know who I wrote it for. I love you Sara." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "Move in with me. Let me be your family."  
  
"Okay." Sara was smiling and crying at the same time. "I love you too, Nicky."  
  
Schoolhouse Rocks, now forgotten, continued to play softly in the background.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was 7:45 pm. Grissom pulled his Tahoe easily into his parking spot, and entered the station. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, showing up at work in jeans and a T-shirt, but he had taken Greg's advice about casual dressing to heart. Walking into the front lobby, he quickly looked around. Catherine was talking to O'Reilly just down the hallway, one hand lightly resting on his arm. Grissom frowned when he noticed she was laughing. Warrick and Greg stood chatting with Nick and Sara by the vending machine. They all grinned when they saw him.  
  
"Hey Grissom! What's going on, you're the last one here!" Warrick greeted.  
  
"He was too busy ironing his jeans to notice the time." Grissom jumped as Catherine sidled up next to him. "Hey Gil - you sort of wreck the whole casual look when your jeans have creases." she teased.  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at her. "You sort of wreck the whole casual look when you were a skirt and stilettos, but you don't hear me complaining." Everyone laughed as they headed out the doors.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Less than 15 minutes later, Grissom followed Catherine into a packed bar. He was taken aback by the sheet amount of people jammed inside, and winced as his ears were assaulted by a pounding rhythm and beating drums. A group of young people were jumping up and down in the middle of a packed dance floor, throwing themselves bodily against each other.  
  
"What is that!" he yelled at Catherine, over the din around them. He pointed to the dance floor.  
  
"That's the mosh pit!" she hollered back. "They're dancing!" People were pushing in all around them. Grissom reached out and planted a hand firmly at the base of Catherine's spin, guiding her through the crush. Looking around, he saw that Greg had managed - somehow - to get a table, and Sara and Warrick were already sitting at it. A quick glance showed Nick was at the bar. 'He'd better be ordering cola!' Grissom thought to himself.  
  
He sighed in relief when they reached the table. Catherine quickly sat down, and slid over, offering to share her seat with Grissom. He slid into it gratefully.  
  
"Nick's gone to get us some sodas!' Sara leaned over and shouted across the table at them. "The guy at the door told us the bands start playing at 9:00 sharp. Greg's already spoken with a few guys, but I don't know if we're actually going to be able to do anything here. It's pretty loud!"  
  
"Not conducive to questioning people, that's for sure! Let's just observe for now!" Grissom nodded at Nick as he returned to the table, handing out drinks to everyone. He smiled his appreciation as he took a sip of his Dr. Pepper. Beside him, he could feel Catherine bouncing in her seat. He glanced at her, and could see her shoulders moving to the violent rhythm. "How can you dance to this?" he hollered.  
  
She smiled at him. "What? It's got a beat! Just find it and move!"  
  
He leaned over to Greg. "Do you know the guy that runs this bar?"  
  
Greg nodded.  
  
"Do you think he might let us use his office to talk to some people after the bands start? It's got to be quieter than here!"  
  
Greg grinned. "I'll go ask him - he's right over there. Be back in a second!"  
  
Grissom observed the people around him. It was really amazing to him what passed for fashion these days. He couldn't understand why the young people in this bar felt it necessary to mutilate themselves with multiple piercings, and the hair - every color in the rainbow was represented. He glanced at Warrick, who had walked over to the bar to talk to a pretty girl with pink hair. Pink hair!  
  
He leaned towards Catherine. "I think I'm getting old, Catherine!"  
  
Catherine grinned at him, teasing. "Think, Gil? Most of the kids here are young enough to be my -" she stopped suddenly. "I won't continue that thought!"  
  
Grissom smiled. "Well, I don't know." He was scanning the room again. "There's a kid with blue hair over there that's been checking you out. I think you have an admirer!"  
  
Catherine looked to the table Grissom had indicated. One of the young men sitting there raised his glass to her and nodded. Catherine laughed. "Coo- coo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson! C'mon Grissom, he looks like Grover!" She turned to face him more fully, smiling at him. "I prefer more mature men."  
  
Grissom's smile slipped, before returning to his face. "Why Catherine - are you flirting with me?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes were serious.  
  
Catherine leaned closer, whispering loudly in his ear. "Do you want me to be?" Her hand was on his shoulder, and Grissom could feel the soft brush of her hair against the side of his face. She smelled like strawberries.  
  
Against his better judgement, he whispered back. "Yes."  
  
Catherine sat back down and stared at him. Before either of them could say anything further, Greg was back at the table.  
  
"We can use the office in the back to talk to people, Grissom." He hollered. "Whenever you're ready."  
  
______  
  
Author's Note: In response to the many emails I am getting asking for some more Nick and Sara, I thought I would include what I personally think would be an interesting back story for Sara - single child of older, intellectual parents. Nick, as ever, is his charming self - he is a fun character to write. For those of you asking me to speed things up between Catherine and Grissom - give it time. They're older and more cautious - they're not just going to leap - especially Grissom, who won't want to turn to Catherine on the rebound. Trust me - I'm getting there! In the meantime, thanks so much for the support and the reviews. If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to email me! 


	12. SNIPER

XII- SNIPER  
  
~He laid out the rifles, he loaded the shotgun,  
  
he stacked up the cartridges along the wall.  
  
He knew he would need them for his conversation.  
  
If it went as it he planned, then he might use them all.  
  
He said 'Listen you people I've got a question -  
  
You won't pay attention but I'll ask anyhow.  
  
I found a way that will get me an answer.  
  
Been waiting to ask you 'till now. Right now!  
  
  
  
Am I? I am a lover whose never been kissed.  
  
Am I? I am a fighter who's not made a fist.  
  
Am I? If I'm alive then there's so much I've missed.  
  
How do I know I exist? Are you listening to me?  
  
Are you listening to me? Am I?'  
  
  
  
The first words he spoke took the town by surprise.  
  
One got Mrs. Gibbons above her right eye.  
  
It blew her through the window wedged her against the door.  
  
Reality poured from her face, staining the floor.~  
  
  
  
Grissom listened in amazement to the first band of the night, as they performed an angry, edgy version of 'Sniper'. Brass, who had arrived just 10 minutes ago and was - not surprisingly - wearing a suit, leaned over to Grissom and tapped him on the shoulder, yelling. "This is not an appropriate song to be playing at a tribute for three murdered men!"  
  
Grissom grunted his agreement. He looked across the table at Greg, waving him over when he caught his attention.  
  
"What do you know about this band?" he hollered.  
  
Greg rolled his eyes. "They're fairly new - just got together a couple of months ago. They're pretty good - but the lead guy; Edd - he thinks they're the best thing to hit Las Vegas since Bugsy Malone, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Were they in the Battle of the Bands?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "They didn't qualify - hadn't been together long enough."  
  
  
  
~ Bill Whedon was questioned as he stepped from his car.  
  
Tom Scott ran across the street but he never got that far.  
  
The police were there in minutes, they set up barricades.  
  
He spoke right on over them in a half-mile circle;  
  
in a dumb struck city his pointed questions were sprayed.  
  
  
  
He knocked over Danny Tyson as he ran towards the noise.  
  
Just about then the answers started coming, sweet, sweet joy.  
  
Thudding in the clock face, whining off the walls,  
  
reaching up to where he sat there, answering calls.  
  
Thirty-seven people got his message so far.  
  
Yes, he was reaching them right were they are.  
  
  
  
They set up an assault team. They asked for volunteers.  
  
They had to go and get him - that much was clear.  
  
And the word spread about him on the radios and TV's.  
  
In appropriately sober tones they asked 'Who can it be?'~  
  
  
  
Catherine was scanning the crowd, watching the group in the mosh pit as they slammed into each other. She glanced every once in a while at Grissom, and had to smile. He was sitting stiffly in his chair, nursing his soda, and just did not look comfortable. She noticed that he was absently pinching between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"What's wrong? You don't look like you're having fun!" she teased, leaning over and yelling into his ear.  
  
He grimaced, before responding. "I can't believe they're singing this song. And I'm getting a headache. Sara told me pinching the nerve here would work as acupuncture and help relieve the pressure, but I don't think I'm doing it right."  
  
Catherine looked at Grissom's hands, twisting partially in her chair and taking one in her own. "Where? Here?" Her hands were cold, but her fingers firm. She quickly found the pad between his thumb and squeezed. "This the spot?" Grissom nodded. They watched the band silently, Catherine alternately pinching and applying pressure. Grissom began to relax.  
  
  
  
~ The wires are all humming for me.  
  
And I can hear them coming for me.  
  
Soon they'll be here, but there's nothing to fear.  
  
Not any more though they've blasted the door.  
  
As the copter dropped the gas he shouted "Who cares?"  
  
They could hear him laughing as they started up the stairs.  
  
As they stormed out on the catwalk, blinking at the sun,  
  
with their final fusillade his answer had come.  
  
  
  
Am I? There is no way that you can hide me.  
  
Am I? Though you have put your fire inside me.  
  
Am I? You've given me my answer can't you see?  
  
I was! I am! And now I Will Be! I WILL BE!!!~  
  
  
  
Nick and Sara were talking to Ray as the band on stage finished their song to thunderous applause - his group was going to be the next band to perform. The 'Master of Ceremonies' had climbed onto the stage, and was exhorting the crowd.  
  
"Let's hear it for Killjoy! Great set guys! Our next band for the evening will be Meat Bullets and as you all know, this band was one of the finalists in the Battle of the Bands. And we have good news for everyone wondering what's going to happen with that in the midst of the terrible tragedy that has befallen K-ROX, with the loss of Rivers and Waters, and station manger Phillips. Matt Murdoch, the owner of Pity Party Records and one of the judges, has confirmed that the show will go on in tribute - one week from tonight! Matt - stand-up - take a bow!" The crowd was cheering wildly now, and the young man who had been scoping out Catherine earlier, stood and waved to them. On stage, Ray and his band were ready to start, waiting for the go ahead. Grissom grinned at Catherine. "It's your not-so-secret admirer! He's obviously a successful businessman - maybe you should go for it."  
  
Catherine grimaced. "No thanks. But we should talk to him. If he was a judge, he might have some insight for us."  
  
As Meat Bullets ripped into their set, Catherine and Grissom stood and walked towards Matt Murdoch. The young man was surrounded by people, slapping him on the back and offering to buy him drinks. He was shaking hands and laughing good naturedly, watching the band on stage as they performed.  
  
As Catherine stepped closer to introduce herself, his gaze suddenly fixed on her, and he stepped forward.  
  
"Matt Murdoch." He hollered, holding his hand out to her, ignoring Grissom.  
  
"Catherine Willows." She replied. "Crime Scenes Investigations. Can we talk, Mr. Murdoch?"  
  
"We can do whatever you want, Ms. Willows!"  
  
She felt Grissom tense up behind her as she grinned in response. Before she could reply, the flash pots on stage exploded, the loud noise making her jump. Murdoch jumped as well, falling forward into her arms, a look of surprise on his face. Catherine almost collapsed under his sudden unexpected weight, and felt Grissom's arms reach out to catch her before she went down. Something warm and wet was soaking the front of her blouse. All around her, people were screaming.  
  
And that's when Catherine realized - Murdoch had been shot. She held onto him tightly as he died in her arms.  
  
_________  
  
Author's Note: The song 'Killjoy' plays is the really neat character song 'SNIPER' written by the late, great Harry Chapin. I can totally see this song as an alternative rock/garage song, even though it was written by one of the best folk artists ever! I'm not totally sure if I like this chapter yet, so if you think it sucks, let me know and I'll revamp. Constructive criticism is always a good thing! 


	13. CRUSH

XIII - CRUSH  
  
The sudden press of bodies rushing towards the door knocked Catherine off her feet. She collapsed in a heap, her hands still tightly gripping Murdoch. Above her, she heard Grissom yelling her name. His large frame hunched forward over hers, as he tried to protect her from being trampled by the stream of people rushing for the doors. A young girl tripped over Murdoch's legs, and Catherine barely had time to register the fear in her face before she scrambled away on her knees.  
  
Over the PA system, an authoritative voice could be heard. "Every one - stay calm. The police have been called. Do not leave the building - remain where you are!" Catherine grimaced. She didn't know how Brass had managed to get to the stage, but she didn't think he would be able to prevent the exodus.  
  
Her skin felt sticky, and she started shuddering. Twisting her upper body, she tried to protect Murdoch from being stepped on. She felt a knee knock her in the side of the head as someone pushed by to closely, and she winced against the sudden flare of pain. Murdoch's eyes were open, his eyes as blue as his hair. Catherine felt like crying.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick and Nick had managed to forcibly push their way to the front doors, enlisting the two rather large bouncers still standing there to help them pull them closed. They were trying to prevent more people from leaving the crime scene. Warrick had pulled out his id and was hollering. "Everyone, go back to your seats. You are all potential witnesses at a crime scene. The police are on their way. No one will be allowed to leave the building until we have spoken with you!"  
  
Nick joined in, flashing his id and repeating Warrick's statements. He hoped that someone had had the sense to prevent people from going out the back door through the alley. In the distance, he could hear sirens, and he glanced at Warrick in grim relief. "Here comes the cavalry!"  
  
As police officers started arriving, the crush of people trying to push their way out lessened. Although it had seemed like ages, after only 5 minutes the two men were relieved of their positions at the doorway. Warrick hollered at Nick. "Let's try to locate the others!"  
  
Nick nodded grimly, and the two men started wading through the crowd, scanning for their friends. Sara, who had been standing with Brass on the stage, pushed through the crowd as she saw Nick and Warrick approaching. Brass was still telling people to calm down, and gradually the yelling and screaming petered out, overtaken by the sounds of crying and shocked conversation.  
  
"Greg is at the back door, keeping people from leaving!" she greeted. "I can't seem to find Grissom and Catherine anywhere - they're not at the table."  
  
Grabbing her by the arm, Nick pulled her closer. Before he could say anything, he heard Warrick.  
  
"There they are. I see them."  
  
* * * * *  
  
As the crush around them started dissipating, Grissom looked up in relief. He had thrown himself in front of Catherine as she had sunk in the crowd, and had bodily pushed several people away from her as they stampeded for the door. In the ensuing melee, his glasses had been knocked off, and Grissom had no idea where they were - probably crushed on the floor somewhere. His body felt bruised and battered; his nose felt bloodied. He only hoped that Catherine was alright.  
  
Catherine was hunched over the body in her arms, cradling the dead man protectively in her small frame. Her legs were pinned underneath him. Grissom winced when he saw the dark bruise that was already forming on her pale forehead. Someone had managed to hit her - probably with a knee - despite his best efforts.  
  
"Catherine." His voice was gentle but loud as he reached forwards and touched her shoulders. "Are you okay?"  
  
Catherine slowly straightened, staring at him blankly for a few moments. She was covered in blood.  
  
"Oh my God! Catherine, are you hurt?" Grissom was suddenly panicked, his voice harsh with worry. He started running his hands down her arms and sides, feeling for damage.  
  
"It's not my blood, Gil." She answered. "Help me get up." Gently, she extricated her legs out from underneath Murdoch, leaning heavily into Grissom as they both rose to their feet.  
  
"Oh my God! Catherine! Are you hurt?" Warrick's voice was alarmingly loud, and both Grissom and Catherine turned, as he, Nick and Sara came towards them. Catherine nodded no mutely, and felt Grissom's arm protectively drop around her shoulders.  
  
"Are the medics here, yet?" he asked. "I want to get her looked at."  
  
"I'm all right Grissom. Everyone. I'm fine!" Catherine protested. She smiled weakly at the concern in their faces, before looking down at Murdoch. "He's the one that needs the medics."  
  
"No, he needs the coroner." Grissom's voice was dark. "What the hell happened?"  
  
"That's what I'd like to know!" Sheriff Mobley's voice was loud and angry. "What the hell happened? I'm getting a little tired of showing up at crime scenes and finding your people covered in blood, Grissom!"  
  
Before Grissom could respond, Brass interceded. He had seen Mobley's entrance, and had quickly abandoned his post on the stage as he rushed over to intercept him. "You're the one that told us to come here, Mobley. This isn't Grissom's fault - we just happened to be here when someone shot our victim." He smiled grimly. "At least, everyone's here so you don't have to wait for them to arrive."  
  
Mobley shot Brass a dirty look. "Please tell me one of you saw who did this."  
  
Catherine responded. "I was closest, and I didn't see anything. Didn't even hear the gun shot. One minute, I was asking him if he would speak with us, the next - he was dead."  
  
"Well, don't just stand there. Get to work!" Mobley snapped. He turned and stalked off towards one of his officers.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara had taken Catherine to the bathroom, and was trying to help her clean up somewhat. Nick, who had been wearing his Bruce Lee shirt opened over top of a dark t-shirt, had given it to her for Catherine to change into. Catherine had smiled weakly as he had handed it to Sara. "You're not going to get rid of it that easily, Nick!"  
  
Looking in the mirror, Catherine was shocked at the way she looked. Nick's shirt hung on her, almost down to her knees, and below its hem she could see flecks and streaks of red on her legs. A vivid purple bruise covered the left top of her forehead, and she winced as Sara gently applied a wet paper towel to her face, trying to wipe away the blood.  
  
Catherine's ruined silk blouse lay in the sink.  
  
"Well, that looks a little better." Sara's tone was matter of fact, as she looked grimly at Catherine. "That's a nasty bruise."  
  
"Yeah. It could have been worse though. I could have been trampled to death. Or shot. One bruise is a small price to pay."  
  
"Are you sure you're alright?"  
  
Catherine sighed. "Yeah. I'm okay. I'm sure the shock will come later. You know, two seconds before he was shot, that young man was flirting with me!"  
  
"Was Grissom there?" Sara cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Catherine looked at her, momentarily confused. "Yeah - but he wasn't flirting with Grissom."  
  
Sara laughed. "No kidding!" She looked at Catherine oddly for a second. "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
Catherine felt vaguely uneasy. "Yes. I suppose."  
  
"Is there anything going on with you and Grissom?"  
  
Catherine's jaw dropped open, before quickly shutting with an audible snap. "Sara! He's still getting over you! We're just - friends."  
  
"Trust me Catherine, he's over me. We just had a harmless flirtation, but neither of us would have ever acted on it. It was just easier for us to flirt with someone safe, as opposed to flirting with someone - dangerous." She smiled at Catherine. "And besides, Nick and I are friends, and now we're - better friends - so that's not really an excuse."  
  
Catherine looked back into the mirror, trying to fix her bangs to cover the bruise. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yes you do. From the looks of things he took a couple of nasty hits to keep you from getting hurt. He's very protective of you - remember when he almost beat Eddie to a pulp? And I know he's waiting outside for us to make sure you're alright, when he should be helping Nick and Warrick prep the crime scene." She winked at Catherine. "He's been - different - the last few days. I think he's finally waking up."  
  
Catherine just looked at her, her calm façade belying her tumultuous emotions. "We're just friends. Come one - let's get out there and help."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg was sitting at a large table with Nick, several pads of paper in front of them. While the police were gathering their evidence and interviewing potential witnesses, they were getting writing samples from the various band members that were still there. Greg carefully notated each person's name at the top of the page, before handing them a list of words for them to copy. Beside him, Nick did the same.  
  
Grissom was pacing beside the bathroom Sara had dragged Catherine into roughly 15 minutes ago. Greg nudged Nick, and jerked his head in Grissom's direction.  
  
"He's really worked up!"  
  
"Yeah. I don't think he believes Catherine wasn't hurt. I mean, the guy was shot right in front of her - she's lucky the bullet didn't go through him and hit her."  
  
Greg glanced at Grissom again, nodding. "So, Grissom and Catherine, eh?" He accepted a finished sample from the guy in front of him, slipping it into a file folder and quickly handing a pen and a piece of paper to the next person. "Every one is hooking up around here, man."  
  
Nick grinned. "Only me and Sara." He glanced up and saw the two women step out of the bathroom, smiling as Grissom immediately stepped forward and grabbed Catherine's arm. "So far."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sara, I'm taking Catherine home." Before Catherine could protest, Grissom had grabbed her gently by the arm. "Don't argue. You can't work in that shirt - it's longer than your skirt, and-" He stopped, suddenly embarrassed.  
  
"You look like you're not wearing anything else underneath it." Sara piped up, shooting an amused look at Grissom.  
  
"I was going to say, it didn't look good. Plus, we won't be able to really start processing the scene for at least another 30 minutes anyway. I can get you to your place, you can have a quick shower to get the blood off, and I'll bring you back. Okay?"  
  
"That's a great idea, Catherine. You'll feel a lot better once you're cleaned up. The rest of us can take care of things here - why don't we meet you both back at the lab?" She smiled at Grissom. "You could do with a change too - you have almost as much blood on you as Catherine did."  
  
Grissom looked down at his shirt, and realized it was stiff with blood at the side where he had held Catherine against him. He grimaced in disgust. "Yeah. I've got a change of clothes in the Tahoe. If Mobley comes looking for us, tell him we'll talk to the detectives back at the lab. Greg and Nick are getting writing samples while they wait. Warrick's interviewing people. You help Warrick."  
  
"Don't worry about us, Grissom. Just get Catherine out of here - we'll catch you later!" With that, Sara turned and headed purposefully towards Warrick. Catherine didn't argue as Grissom led her quickly to the Tahoe. 


	14. CATHERINE THE GREAT

XIV - CATHERINE THE GREAT  
  
Grissom stood uncomfortably in Catherine's living room. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, knew she was in the shower washing the blood off - and the thought was making him nervous.  
  
He walked over to the stereo and opened the CD carousel. He smiled to himself when he saw a Backstreet Boys CD - that had to be Lindsey's! - and he quickly replaced it with the Barenaked Ladies, hitting random before pressing play.  
  
He stood, absently letting the music wash over him, and let his thought's drift absently, trying to empty his mind. He didn't know what was going on lately, but he felt like he was losing control. After two trying cases in a row, an unexpected romantic development between Nick and Sara, his own inability to keep a grip on his emotions, the past few days had been unlike anything he had ever experienced.  
  
He sighed, walking over to one of the many shelves lining Catherine's living room, and picked up a silver framed picture of Catherine and Lindsey. Rubbing his thumb over the glass, he smiled. He had taken this picture after Lindsey's 7th birthday party, and he knew it was one of Catherine's favorites. Lindsey, wearing a pink party dress and ribbons in her hair, had fallen asleep in Catherine's lap, and Catherine was focused entirely on her still form, a beatific smile upon her face.  
  
Grissom and Warrick had been preparing to leave, and when Grissom had turned to say good-bye he had seen the tender moment. Without thinking, he had grabbed the camera that had been sitting on the coffee table, and had quickly snapped the photo. It had turned out beautifully.  
  
He was still standing there, absently stroking the picture, when he smelled strawberries.  
  
"Shower's free, Grissom." Catherine's gentle voice drew him from his reverie.  
  
He smiled absently, putting the photo back, before turning to her. She had a towel wrapped around her hair, and was wearing a silk kimono. The bruise on her forehead looked very dark against her pale face and the white towel.  
  
"Feeling better?" he enquired gently. He walked over to her and looked closer at her bruise, surprising himself when he leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. Catherine just nodded, not trusting her voice to respond. Grissom stared intently at her for a few moments. "You look better, but still a little too pale." Shaking himself, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'd say have a drink, but since we have to get back, it's not a good idea. I'll be quick."  
  
Catherine watched him silently as he grabbed the duffel bag he had brought in with him, and headed towards the bathroom. Sighing, Catherine turned towards her bedroom to go get dressed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom had turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it. All around him, he smelled strawberries. A big white puffy thing hung from the shower head, still dripping soap, and Grissom found himself staring it. He reached out a tentative hand and ran his fingers over the remaining bubbles. A sudden image of Catherine, using it to clean herself with, popped into his head. Grissom closed his eyes against the erotic image, mentally chastising himself. 'What in the world is wrong with you? Where the hell is this coming from?'  
  
He had to get out of here. He had to get back to the lab. He had to get a grip.  
  
Quickly turning the shower off, he grabbed the big towel Catherine had left for him. He dried and dressed in record time. Taking a last deep breathe of strawberries and steam, he stepped into the hallway.  
  
"Cath? I'm done! You ready?" He called out.  
  
"Be there in a minute Grissom!"  
  
He tried not to think of her as he stepped back into her living room, but found that he couldn't force his mind from her.  
  
~Well let me tell you if you're feeling alone,  
  
Instead of whining and moaning,  
  
Just get on the phone, tell her you're coming home  
  
If you need, you should be there  
  
If you scream in your sleep, or collapse in a heap  
  
And spontaneously weep, then you know you're in deep  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
Go Home  
  
There's nothing better than affairs of the heart  
  
To make you feel so good then tear you apart  
  
Make up your mind and stick it out or start again  
  
You can't imagine what an effort it takes  
  
When you make a mistake  
  
And you know in the wake that a heart's going to break  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
If you're flummoxed and flushed  
  
And your heartbeat is rushed  
  
Then get out of the slush, tell your dog team to mush  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
Go Home  
  
If you think of her as Joan of Arc  
  
She's burning for you, get your car out of park  
  
If you think of her as Catherine the Great  
  
Then you should be the horse to help her meet her fate  
  
If you need her, you should be there,  
  
Go Home  
  
You can't believe it, but it's true  
  
She's given everything to you  
  
Now take a moment to be sure  
  
Before you give it all to her  
  
Well now you're thinking that it's over at last,  
  
All your woes in the past  
  
But you've got to be fast; put your foot on the gas  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
so now you're out from under the gun  
  
And it's over and done  
  
I won't spoil all the fun but if you ever wonder  
  
She'll be there if you need her  
  
Go Home  
  
If you're lucky to be one of the few  
  
To find somebody who can tolerate you  
  
Then I shouldn't have to tell you again  
  
Just pack your bags and get yourself on a plane  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
Go Home  
  
If you need her, you should be there  
  
Go Home.~  
  
The song playing softly in the background caught Grissom off guard. He stood there in deep contemplation, his heart pounding as he listened. He heard Catherine walking down her hallway, humming, and turned to watch her as she walked towards him.  
  
Quickly shuttering his eyes, he asked her expressionlessly if she was ready to leave. She nodded, frowning at him a little in confusion. But she didn't ask him what was wrong. Grissom was relieved. It would never do for her to realize that he was in love with her.  
  
_____  
  
Author's Note: The song is Go Home, by the Barenaked Ladies. Awesome song! 


	15. CLUELESS

XV - CLUELESS  
  
Greg was back in the lab. Several of the writing samples were spread out before him, covering every spare inch of the table top. Warrick stood off to one side, watching him intently.  
  
"Greg, I have to ask. What are you doing?"  
  
"Sorting these papers. Why?"  
  
"Sorting them - how?" Warrick stepped closed, examining the table. "It looks like you've just got them spread out all over the place."  
  
Greg grinned. "I'm sorting them according to bands, and when they were eliminated from the contest, working from top left hand corner down in rows. And then I was thinking, we should lift fingerprints before we send them for handwriting analysis."  
  
"Fingerprints?" Warrick sounded dubious.  
  
"Fingerprints. I can try to compare them from the prints we pulled from Phillips letter and the envelope. We might get lucky." Greg shrugged, and grouped another few sheets together. He looked up at Warrick and smiled. "C'mon Warrick. Say something. It's a good idea, right?"  
  
"It's a great idea. We might make a CSI out of you yet." Warrick's tone was light, and Greg snorted. "So, I guess I'll grab the powder then."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Sara were still at the now empty bar. Murdoch had just been bagged, and was on his way to Robbins for what promised to be a pretty perfunctionary autopsy.  
  
"So, Grissom and Catherine were sitting over here, and Murdoch was here when they approached him." Nick watched her as she talked out the scenario. "Murdoch collapsed here - into Catherine, who was facing the stage. He was shot in the upper left hand shoulder - bullet didn't emerge. His back was to the stage."  
  
She looked at Nick. "How did our shooter manage to miss hitting anyone else? This place was packed!"  
  
Nick shrugged. "He was lucky - or everyone else was." He moved towards the area were Murdoch had fallen, and turned with Sara to look at the stage.  
  
"If his back was to the stage, and he was shot in the back from the left, the shooter would have had to have been on this side room." He frowned. "It was dark, it was packed. After the gun was shot, panic ensued. He wouldn't have had time to pick up a casing. So - where is it?"  
  
Side by side, he and Sara turned and slowly started walking to the right side of the room, towards the stage.  
  
"Even if we find it, there's no guarantee that it will show us where the shooter stood, you know. It could have been kicked anywhere by people rushing to the exits."  
  
"You normally so pessimistic, Sidle?" Nick teased. His eyes were scanning the floor in front of him. Reaching the stage, he jumped onto it, still moving at a left angle from where the body had fallen. A dull glint to his right about 10 feet caught his eye.  
  
"Well, well, well - Sara, look at this." Nick had stopped, crouching over a shell casing. It was off to the side on the far edge of the stage. Sara smiled at him.  
  
"He was shot by someone on the stage." She turned, hopped off the stage and quickly strode to the area where Murdoch had been shot. "So, if I'm Murdoch and I'm standing here, and my killer is standing where you are -"  
  
"The bullet hit him going in a downward angle." Nick quickly took a photo of the casing, before bagging it. He grinned at Sara. "Stick with me, Sara - I'll make an optimist of you yet!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
The ride back to the lab had been a silent one. Grissom had never been so relieved to get to work, and he jumped out of the Tahoe as soon as the engine stopped. Catherine followed at a more leisurely pace, but slammed the door with more force than necessary as she exited the vehicle.  
  
Grissom turned to look at her, merely cocking an eyebrow and giving her an inscrutable look. Catherine ignored him. Together, in silence, they walked into the lab.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass looked up as Catherine and Grissom walked past the front desk, and smiled. "You look better, Catherine. How's the head?"  
  
Catherine's reply was terse. "Fine. So, what do we know?"  
  
Brass shrugged. "Body just arrived about 20 minutes ago. Robbins said he'd work him up right away. Warrick and Greg are in the lab - they're lifting prints from the writing samples to compare to the prints Greg pulled from that letter. Sara and Nick are still at The Edge - but, she just called and said they would be leaving soon. They're picking up dinner and bringing it in." He looked at Catherine again. "You sure you're okay?"  
  
"I'm fine!" She snapped, and than sighed. "Sorry, Brass. I've had a bad night."  
  
"Tell me about it." Brass patted her shoulder in commiseration. Grissom tried not to glare at him.  
  
"I'll be down with Robbins." He muttered. "Page me if you need me."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Victim was shot from an angle. Bullet entered just above and to the side of his left shoulder blade, traveled in a down-ward trajectory, nicked his heart, punctured a lung, damaged the stomach and intestinal cavity before lodging in the right hipbone. If he had been shot straight, the bullet would have gone through his shoulder, and he'd still be alive."  
  
Grissom looked at Robbins. "But Catherine may not be. She was standing right in front of him. If the bullet had passed through Murdoch, it would have hit her."  
  
"It's a good thing our killer shot downwards, then." Robbins tone was dry. "I managed to retrieve the bullet. You want to take it to ballistics on your way back up?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine was sitting in the lab with Warrick and Greg. The two men had already lifted almost 100 sets of fingerprints of the writing samples, and they still had more than half to go.  
  
"This is a great idea, guys, but it's gonna take forever to lift all the prints. Too bad we couldn't narrow it down somewhat."  
  
Greg looked at Catherine and smiled. "Maybe we'll be able to when Nick and Sara get back. In the meantime, we gotta work with what we have. Do you want to start running the prints we've already managed to pull?"  
  
Catherine shrugged. "Sure. Nothing better to do."  
  
Warrick and Greg looked at each other, Warrick sighing. "Catherine - are you all right?"  
  
"I swear by all that's holy, if one more person asks me that I am going to scream!" Catherine was annoyed. "I. Am. Fine. Okay? Okay??"  
  
"Okay, Catherine! But it's not every day someone dies in your arms. You have to expect that we'd be concerned for you." Warrick's voice was calm. Catherine looked at him sharply, ready to retort, before sighing.  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry." She smiled glumly. "I seem to be apologizing a lot tonight."  
  
Greg handed her the fingerprints they had lifted. "Don't worry about it, Cath. We're thick skinned - and besides, you're entitled to be a little edgy. There's a lot going on."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The smell of spicy Thai food proceeded Nick and Sara down the hallway. Grissom could smell it from his office, and his stomach grumbled accordingly. Putting down the file he had been reading, he headed towards the lounge. Warrick, Greg and Catherine were just stepping out of the lab, and Warrick had an arm thrown casually over Catherine's shoulder. She leaned her head into him, smiling, as she gave him a little squeeze around his waist. Grissom could hear her soft laughter.  
  
Turning abruptly, he marched back into his office and closed the door, leaning against it closing his eyes. He was not jealous. He refused to be jealous. He didn't know where these sudden emotions were coming from, but he had to get them under control. It was like that whole incident with little Timmy Watson and everyone's subsequent emotional involvement to that case had cracked the dam he hid behind.  
  
He wished he could take back what he had said to Catherine about opening up more. He preferred the old Grissom - stable, stoic and emotionally controlled. A sudden sharp knock at his door made him jerk.  
  
"Grissom - dinner. And we found something at the crime scene." He heard Sara's voice through the doorway, and slowly opened it.  
  
"Coming, Sara."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The food was delicious. She was surrounded by her friends. So why did she feel so lonely? Catherine sighed, as she looked around the room. Her gaze fell on Sara, and Catherine smiled. Sara was leaning against Nick, talking animatedly, a big smile on her face. Catherine didn't remember ever seeing the younger CSI look so happy. Nick was good for her.  
  
She glanced over at Grissom. He was studying a crossword puzzle as he absently ate his dinner, but his body screamed tension. He had been like that ever since her place, and Catherine couldn't figure out what had caused the sudden change. One minute, he had been gentle and concerned - he had even kissed her, for goodness sake! Of course, the kiss had been on her forehead, but still - he had never done that before. And then, after his shower, he was a totally different person - cold, distant, shut-off. She didn't understand what had happened.  
  
Grissom could feel her eyes on him. He shifted, trying to keep focused on the crossword he was half-heartedly trying to complete. He wished she would stop looking at him. Taking a chance, he glanced up and caught her eyes. She looked sad. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and gave her a small smile. Catherine flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at him, her eyes flashing angrily. But she smiled back.  
  
"So, guys. Tell me what you've found." Grissom dragged his gaze from Catherine and looked around the room. Sara quickly filled everyone in about the finding of the casing, and Grissom nodded.  
  
"Confirms what Robbins said. He managed to retrieve the bullet - it's in ballistics now." Grissom glanced at Catherine again. "Robbins said if the bullet hadn't gone in at an angle, it would have been a clean in and out. You could have been hit, Catherine." He sighed, before turning to Warrick. "And Brass said you guys were running fingerprints from the samples to compare to the ones on the letter and envelope. Good idea, Warrick. Hopefully, it'll provide us with something."  
  
"I can't take the credit for that one, Grissom. It was Greg's idea." He smiled at the younger man. "He also sorted the samples, grouping them by band and the order they were eliminated in the contest."  
  
"Nice going, Greggo!" Greg looked flustered but happy at Sara's praise, which was quickly echoed by the others.  
  
"I'm learning from the best." He responded.  
  
"So, what this all boils down to is this: we might not be so clueless after all." Grissom was looking at Catherine again, even though his words were meant for everyone.  
  
Nick nudged Sara in the ribs with an elbow, grinning. He tilted his eyes in Grissom's direction, and then to Catherine. "Some of us have never been clueless, Grissom." Sara laughed.  
  
_____ 


	16. AND SO IT GOES

XVI - AND SO IT GOES  
  
"Well, the bullet matches the casing." Sara's voice made Grissom jump. He swiveled in his chair, sighing, as he put his pen down.  
  
"Good. That's one break, at least."  
  
"I thought you'd be a little happier, all things considered. We're getting close - I can feel it."  
  
Grissom snorted at her. "Since when are you an optimist, Sara?"  
  
Sara started laughing. "You think I'm optimistic? Nick just told me earlier I was a pessimist. Maybe you two should talk to each other!" She sank gracefully into the empty chair across from his desk. She stared at him silently for a minute, weighing her words, before speaking.  
  
"What's going on Grissom?"  
  
Grissom looked at her, his expression blank. "Nothing. What are you talking about?"  
  
"The tension around here between you and Catherine is so thick; you could cut it with a knife. Did you two have a fight?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong between Catherine and I. And no, we didn't have a fight." Grissom sounded annoyed.  
  
"Grissom - how long have I known you? I know when something is wrong, and something is definitely wrong. I'll find out eventually, you know. Why don't you just save yourself the agony of my harassment, and tell me?"  
  
Grissom sighed. "Listen, Sara. I'm sure you have something better to do - "  
  
"Actually, I don't."  
  
Grissom ignored her, continuing, "And this is something I really don't want to discuss with you. Is that okay?"  
  
"No. It's not okay. If you don't want to talk to me, then talk to somebody. I'd say, talk to Catherine - but since it appears she's part of the problem, that's not a good idea." Sara ran a hand through her hair. "A word of advice, Grissom. It's never good to alienate the person you confide in most. Catherine's upset with you." She stood to leave, her expression gentle. "I'm sorry if you're hurting. But maybe, it's not as bad as you think it is. She might just love you back."  
  
Grissom looked at Sara in shock, his jaw dropping open. "How do you know?"  
  
"Symbiotics, Grissom." She smiled at him. "We are so much alike, you and I. We hide behind these great big walls, flirting with each other because it's safe, and it doesn't really matter. It's hard when you realize you're not as immune as you like to think. It took a terrible case for me to open up my eyes, and see that Nick was there, just waiting for me. But I'm glad I did."  
  
Sara sat back down, looking at Grissom intently. "Being happy isn't as hard as you might think. So, if you've recognized that she makes you happy, than I say tell her. She hasn't been happy the last few days, Grissom. Not since this case started - not since you've been upset with her."  
  
Grissom had picked up his pen, and was staring at it intently, clicking the ink in and out. "I'm scared, Sara." It felt good to make that admission. "She's been a good friend for too long. What if she thinks I'm rebounding from you - our flirtation, whatever that was? I don't want to loose the best friend I ever had."  
  
"If she feels the same way about you, and you don't tell her, you're going to loose her anyway, Grissom. We can all see the tension between the two of you. She's shutting herself down. And when she does that, she'll shut you out." Sara looked at her watch. "There's not much we can do here until those prints finish running. There's only ½ hour left on this shift. Why don't you go find her? Take her home - talk this out. I'll page you if anything happens."  
  
Grissom sighed. "I suppose I should talk to her. But you don't really need to stick around either. Tell the guys we can all cut out a little early today. I'll see you tonight."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine had already left when Grissom finally went looking for her. Greg was still in the lab, running fingerprints through the system. Grissom stuck his head in the doorway.  
  
"Greg, you can finish that up tonight. You've still have a lot of prints to run. Go home, clear your head."  
  
Greg looked up at him. "I will. I just want to run this last batch here." He turned back to the computer screen. "If you're looking for Catherine, she left about 10 minutes ago."  
  
"What makes you think I'm looking for Catherine?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "She's mad at you. You're going to want to apologize. Why wouldn't you be looking for her?" He glanced at Grissom over his shoulder, smiling. "And Grissom, I suggest roses."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The insistent ringing of her doorbell finally nudged Catherine out of the strange stupor she had been in since arriving home. Lindsey was with Eddie for the next two weeks, and Catherine was missing her. Her bubbly chatter would have distracted Catherine from thinking about Grissom and her relationship - or lack thereof - with him.  
  
Mumbling to herself, she opened up the door abruptly. "Gil! Grissom! What are you doing here."  
  
"We need to talk, Catherine." His voice was nervous and unsure, and he rocked from foot to foot as he stood there on her doorstep.  
  
Catherine sighed in irritation. "Sure - now you want to talk. After shift. When you've spent the last eight hours specifically not talking to me. Okay." She stepped aside, sweeping her arm towards the living room. "Come on in then."  
  
She followed Grissom into her living room, and plopped down on the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest. She waited. Grissom said nothing. Instead, he walked over to the picture he had been looking at earlier this morning and picked it up.  
  
Finally, after the silence had become almost unbearable, Grissom spoke. "I love this picture. I think it's my favorite one of you and Lindsey. You can see how much you love her." He put the photo back, and wandered over to her CD's, picking up Billy Joel. "Do you mind?" He didn't wait for a response as he slid it into her stereo. Soon, the soft caress of Joel's music filled the small room.  
  
"Gil, if you came here to listen to Billy Joel, just borrow the damn CD and go home. I'm tired, and I really don't feel like trying to figure out the Rubik's Cube of your mind right now. I'm not up to the challenge." Catherine's voice sounded small and defeated. Grissom turned and watched her as she ran a tired hand across her eyes.  
  
~ In every heart there is a room, a sanctuary safe and strong - To heal the wounds from lovers past, until a new one comes along. I spoke to you in cautious tones, you answered me with no pretense. And still I feel I said too much - my silence is my self defense  
  
And every time I've held a rose it seems I only felt the thorns. And so it goes, and so it goes, and so will you soon I suppose. But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake So I will share this room with you - And you can have this heart to break  
  
And this is why my eyes are closed. It's just as well for all I've seen. And so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one who knows  
  
So I would choose to be with you, that's if the choice were mine to make. But you can make decisions too - And you can have this heart to break  
  
And so it goes, and so it goes - And you're the only one who knows.~  
  
Catherine closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa. Grissom still hadn't said anything, he was just standing there, looking at her. The song that was playing finished, and Grissom turned her stereo off.  
  
"I don't need to borrow the CD, Catherine. I just wanted to listen to that song. I like the words. They say a lot."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about Grissom?"  
  
Grissom didn't respond. Instead, he walked towards Catherine and sat beside her, facing her. He reached out, and ran a gentle hand over the bruise on her forehead. "Sara told me to talk to you. She told me I needed to talk to you. Are you shutting me out, Catherine?"  
  
"No. That's your specialty." Her voice was brittle. Grissom winced, and pulled his hand away from her forehead. Catherine was suddenly, achingly aware of its absence. Sighing, she opened her eyes and tilted her head towards him. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."  
  
"No. No, it's alright. I do shut people out. But not you, Catherine. Never you." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. Catherine leaned forward slightly, confused by the look on Grissom's face.  
  
"What's going on, Gil?" her breath was warm on his face. Grissom felt like he was being wrapped in strawberries and heat. He closed his eyes slowly, than opened them and look at her.  
  
"I'm scared, Catherine."  
  
The admission startled Catherine, who blinked in surprise. She leaned closer. His eyes were so blue. "Scared of me?" she whispered.  
  
Grissom reached his hand out again, running it gently around the side of her face. "You make me so - angry sometimes. And you make me so happy. You're my best friend. I shouldn't be thinking like this." His voice was husky, and the feel of his palm against her cheek was magic. Catherine tilted her head into it, arching her neck slightly.  
  
"You're my best friend too, Gil." Her voice was breathless, her face just inches from his. She put a hand on Grissom's chest, and could feel the steady pounding of his heart. She smiled. It matched the rhythm of her own. Her hand drifted up his chest, her fingers sliding into the curls at the nape of his neck. Grissom shuddered as he felt her nails against his scalp. His eyes flashed. "You make me feel, Catherine."  
  
Catherine smiled, broader this time. Grissom watched her lips, fascinated. "Shut-up, Gil. And kiss me."  
  
_____  
  
Author's note: The song is "And So It Goes" - Billy Joel. An absolutely beautiful love song. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! And for those of you asking for more Nick and Sara, it will come. Please R & R! 


	17. AFTER THE KISS

XVII - AFTER THE KISS  
  
"So, do you think Grissom talked to Catherine?" Nick's voice was sleepy. Sara was watching TV, and Nick was half asleep beside her. He shifted his weight, placing his head down in her lap. Sara smiled absently as she threaded her fingers through his short hair, massaging his scalp.  
  
"I don't know. Grissom is a mystery to me. And I'm not totally comfortable playing matchmaker either. Are you sure pushing him at Catherine is the right thing to do?" Sara was worrying her lip between her teeth.  
  
Nick grinned. "Trust me, Sara. Catherine is a lot like me - it just took her longer to admit she has feelings for Grissom. She's been using their friendship as a shield to keep from going any further. It's not healthy."  
  
"And you got your degree where, Dr. Phil?" Sara teased. With her free hand she had begun playing with the hem at the bottom of his T-shirt, slim fingers sliding under the cotton, fingering his bellybutton. Nick closed his eyes.  
  
"I don't need a degree. I'm naturally in tune with the 'shipiness of others."  
  
"A real Texan cupid."  
  
Nick shifted suddenly. "I'll be your love slave if you scratch my back for me."  
  
"You already are my love slave, Nicky." She trailed her hand down his chest tugging his shirt teasingly. "But I'll scratch your back anyway."  
  
Nick groaned with pleasure as her nails worked lightly over his back and shoulder bones. "This is definitely the way to a man's heart - perpetual back scratch."  
  
"Really? I always thought it was through his stomach." Sara's voice was light, and she giggled when Nick grunted.  
  
"With your limited culinary expertise, it's a good thing that's not true." He sighed contentedly, kissing Sara just above her knee. His head was still in her lap. "This is heaven."  
  
The room fell silent, Sara humming to herself as she worked on Nick's back. Only his occasional small sigh indicated he was even awake. She wondered absently if Nick was ticklish, and ran her fingertips lightly down his sides, grinning when he flinched.  
  
She tested again, fingers slipping over smooth skin, moving subtly. Nick flinched again.  
  
"Don't do it, Sara. Don't even think it!" His voice was low, but it was too late. With a shout of glee, Sara launched a full-fledged attack. Within minutes, they were both on the floor rolling around, screaming with laughter. Nick finally pinned her, and Sara began squirming for dear life - trying to get away from him, begging him to stop.  
  
"Say Uncle!" He demanded, holding his clawed fingers above the exposed skin on her belly.  
  
"Never!"  
  
He laughed. "You are in so much trouble. I'll give you one more chance - say Uncle! Admit that I win!"  
  
Sara grinned, looking into his handsome laughing face. Her brown eyes suddenly turned deadly serious. "I think I've won. Kiss me, Nicky."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom woke up slowly, surrounded in warmth. For a few minutes, he was completely relaxed, smiling and lethargic. And then he remembered where he was. Turning his head slightly, he saw her face, her hair splayed about the pillow case. The smell of strawberries was overwhelming. Grissom closed his eyes, silently groaning.  
  
What the hell had just happened? One minute, he was talking to her, the next - what? Her gentle voice had said 'Shut-up, Gil. And kiss me.' And he had been all over her like flies on honey.  
  
Grissom remembered feeling lost - floating in emotion, soaking up every feeling like a sponge. Her warm mouth, her soft skin - the smell of her soaking into his skin. Catherine had the softest lips.  
  
He had felt her hands in his hair, tangling in his curls, little bolts of electricity shooting from her fingers over his skin. He had wanted to open his eyes to look at her, but didn't have the strength.  
  
His fingers had tangled in her hair, tendrils of strawberry blond wrapping around them like silk. One of her hands had trailed down his face, and he heard the rasp of his stubble scratching against the tender skin of her palm. He had drowned in her kiss.  
  
Everything was a blur after that - he remembered his hands on her, her hands on him. The passion and urgent aching need had been explosive. His blood had felt like flames coursing through his system. He had never wanted anyone in his entire life as badly as he had wanted Catherine, and he had taken her - not gently, not with any finesse, but like a man obsessed - his skin branding hers, his mouth tasting, his teeth nipping. And now, here he was, in her bed. The heat of her body next to him was scorching. What had he done?  
  
"Catherine." His voice was hoarse. "Catherine." He shifted slightly unto his side, and lifted a shaky hand to her hair, playing with the silky tendrils. He watched her anxiously; his heart jumping as she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. She was smiling.  
  
"Gil." Her voice sent little tremors of need ricocheting up his spine. His fingers tightened involuntarily in her hair, pulling slightly. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Wow. You look a little shell-shocked." Her voice was tender and husky at the same time.  
  
Grissom sighed. "I feel shell-shocked. What the hell just happened?"  
  
Catherine laughed lightly, inching closer until her breasts were rubbing against his chest. "You're a 45 year old man, Gil. Do I really need to explain it to you?"  
  
His blue eyes shot open, and he blushed. "No! No - that's not what I meant. I meant - how did we end up here?"  
  
Her hand had traveled up out of the sheets, and was running absently up and down his side, from his hipbone to his collarbone and back again. "I think we raced." She giggled. "I won."  
  
Grissom sighed. His heart was pounding again. "And this is?"  
  
"This is me, and you. Nothing more, nothing less." She leaned towards him, kissing him gently, before pulling away and looking into his eyes. "Are you still scared, Gil?"  
  
He nodded, looking slightly bemused. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up, and realize this is just a dream. Catherine, I -"  
  
"No." She leaned forward and kissed him again, harder this time. "Let's not analyze it right now. Just love me again, Gil."  
  
"Forever." He spoke so softly, he thought Catherine hadn't heard him. But her sudden brilliant smile, and her soft mouth as she kissed him into submission, told him she had.  
  
_______  
  
Author's Note: Sorry this took longer to post. I've been away all weekend. I know you all wanted answers as to what happened between Gil and Catherine, and I hope this is answers them - I'll post more soon - back to the case, and all. 


	18. GREG

XVIII - GREG  
  
Greg was waiting in the lounge when Sara and Nick arrived later that evening.  
  
"Hey Greggo! What's up?" Sara smiled as she saw the young lab tech. His hair was particularly atrocious this evening, sticking up at a dozen different angle.  
  
"I found something! Have you seen Grissom?"  
  
Nick looked up from the newspaper he had grabbed. "You mean he's not here?" He looked at his watch. "Shift starts in 15 minutes! Which brings me to this - what are you doing here so early?"  
  
Greg grinned. "I wanted to finish running the prints. So, I came in two hours ago, and got to work."  
  
"Brown-noser." Sara teased, sidling over to Greg and trying to snatch the file from his hand. "So, what did you find?"  
  
"Unh-unh. No way, Sidle. I'll wait until Grissom gets here." Greg's grin was smug. Sara grinned back.  
  
"It's not that easy, Greggo." She looked at Nick, who was slowly approaching Greg from the other side, smiling. "Nick's on my side!" She lunged at Greg again, laughing as he deftly twisted away and spun into the middle of the room.  
  
"Nick? You think he can catch me?" Greg was laughing, holding the folder over his head. "Besides, no fair - two against one." He was backing up slowly as the other two CSIs approached him. "I think I'll just go back to my lab!"  
  
"Children, children - what's going on here?" Warrick's deep voice coming from the doorway immediately behind Greg made everyone jump. Warrick grinned as he snatched the file Greg had been holding over his head from his hands, waving it tauntingly in front of him. "What's this, Greggo?"  
  
"Greg got a hit on one of the prints, and he won't share it with us!" Sara's tone was teasing.  
  
"I want to wait until Grissom gets here. C'mon Warrick, give it back!"  
  
Warrick was grinning. "Grissom's not here yet? Shift starts in like 5 minutes. Where's Catherine?"  
  
Nick and Sara looked at each other, grinning, but before they could offer a hypothesis, Catherine glided into the room. "I'm right here, Warrick. Why? Need me for something?"  
  
Warrick's tone was teasing as he replied. "I always need you, Catherine, you know that. Did you see Grissom when you came in?"  
  
Catherine hid her grin behind the cup of coffee she'd just poured for herself. "Yeah - I think he's in his office. He should be here any minute."  
  
"Ah-hah! Got it!" Greg crowed, as he snatched the report back from Warrick. Warrick had forgotten he had it as he bantered with Catherine, and had let his hand drop low enough for Greg to get it. Nick, Sara and Greg were still giggling when Grissom walked into the lounge.  
  
"Hey, everyone. Sorry to keep you waiting. I had a couple of messages and a new case to pick up - Warrick, Nick and Sara - we've got a murder/suicide at 12001 Crisco Way - I want you guys to take it. Greg, you should be in the lab and -" his eyes fell on the folder Greg was holding. "What's that."  
  
Greg grinned. "I got some prints from one of the writing samples. It matches prints on the letter and envelope." He handed the file to Grissom. "Oscar Fennil. The drummer from Killjoy, the band that played just before Meat Bullets went up. I've sent his writing sample for analysis against the letter - told them it was priority. Mindy says she'll have a work-up for you before 8:00 pm."  
  
Grissom quickly looked at the report Greg had printed for him, smiling. "Do you know this guy, Greg?"  
  
"A little. He used to be in a band with a friend of mine, but they dumped him - personality conflicts. He's an idiot. I - uhm - I spoke with Brass earlier and told him what I found - he and O'Reilly went to bring him in for questioning. They should be here soon."  
  
Grissom looked at Greg in surprise. Greg looked pretty pleased with himself. He looked at the report again, shaking his head. "Good work, Greg. Do you want to help Catherine and I question him, or would you like to help the rest of the team process the murder/suicide?"  
  
"You mean, I can go and do field work?" Greg grinned. "Really?" He looked at the rest of the team, and noted they were all smiling at him. "Wow. I'll go with them."  
  
Nick clapped Greg on the shoulders. "Welcome aboard, man. It's about time!"  
  
Grissom smiled at the semi-stunned expression on Greg's face. "It's long overdue, Greg. You're a great lab technician, and we could use your talents in the field. Starting today, I'll send you out on as many cases as the lab work will allow. Practical experience will be good for you. You are now officially a member of our field team." He held out his hand, smiling as Greg shook it firmly.  
  
"Thanks, Grissom! I won't let you down."  
  
"I know you won't, Greg. Congratulations - and get moving!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
The mood in the CSI-Tahoe was pretty upbeat as the four younger CSIs headed to the latest crime scene. Everyone was honestly very happy for Greg, and were making sure he knew it. Greg seemed to be in a daze.  
  
"I can't believe this! What's gotten into him lately? All of a sudden, he's being nice to me."  
  
Sara, who was sitting in the back seat beside Greg, squeezed his shoulder. "He's just learning to appreciate you more, Greggo. I think we all are."  
  
"Yeah. That was a great idea you had about checking for prints. None of us thought about it, and we're the experienced investigators. Grissom might be a little hard to read sometimes, but he appreciates people who contribute - and you contribute a lot, Greg." Warrick had twisted in the front seat, looking into the back and smiling.  
  
"I think after shift is over we need to go out for a breakfast celebration!"' Nick added, as he turned into the driveway of the crime scene. "Grissom can pay."  
  
* * * * *  
  
O'Reilly was sitting in the interview room with Oscar Fennil, who was not exactly pleased to be there. "C'mon man. What's the hold-up here? I'm supposed to be meeting some friends to jam later on - I'm gonna be late."  
  
O'Reilly ignored him, and continued reading the paper. Grissom was watching him from behind the one-way mirror, and turned to Brass, sighing. "I wonder if Oscar's his real name, or if he's just called that because his hair is green?" He looked at the young man again. "Did he give you a hard time when you went to get him?"  
  
"Not really. Pretty agreeable about it, as long as he gets to leave by 9:00. I told him we just had a couple of questions for him, nothing serious." Brass smiled at Grissom. "I heard about Greg."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? Well, he deserves it. He's a good kid - and his hair might be messy, but at least it's not green or blue. I think he'll make an excellent CSI. He sure showed initiative with this fingerprint idea of his, and getting you to bring Oscar in so we wouldn't have to wait around to question him."  
  
"And yet, that's exactly what we're doing. What are we standing in here for - let's go talk to him."  
  
"I'm waiting for Catherine. She went down to analysis to see if we might be able to get the handwriting report. A little extra evidence, as it were." He smiled as the door opened and Catherine stepped in. "And here she is now. Anything interesting, Cath?"  
  
Catherine sighed, walked over to Grissom and handed him the report. "Handwriting doesn't match. He didn't write the letter."  
  
Grissom frowned. "Really. Well, if he didn't write the letter, he should know who did. His fingerprints are all over the place, so he definitely handled it. Let's move."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"No, man. Give me a break. Everyone liked them. Waters and Rivers - they were gods on the alternative scene. You know how many bands they helped out? They were always playing indies on their show - they really promoted us." Oscar was shaking his head at Grissom, disbelief in his voice.  
  
"Well, be that as it may, they are both dead and so is Phillips. And now, Murdoch is too. We think it's all linked to the Battle of the Bands, and we found your fingerprints all over a letter that was sent to Phillips, and the envelope it was in as well. If you didn't send it, how did your fingerprints get all over it?" Grissom's voice was neutrally blank. There was something about this kid he didn't like. Maybe it was the way he kept leering at Catherine.  
  
"I tell you, I didn't write any letter. I don't know why my fingerprints would be on it, but I didn't write it. Take a handwriting sample if you want to and compare. Besides, our band wasn't allowed to participate in the contest - we hadn't been together long enough."  
  
Catherine responded. "And didn't that make you angry? We saw you guys play at the tribute the night Murdoch was shot. You were pretty good - although, the song you chose wasn't very PC."  
  
Oscar grinned. "Alternative rock isn't supposed to be PC. Besides, it's a great song." He sighed. "Listen, I'm not going to lie to you and say we weren't upset that we couldn't compete, because we were. But, rules are rules. You know what I mean? So, if there's nothing else, can I go now? Or do you want a writing sample?"  
  
Catherine looked at Grissom, who shrugged. Behind them, Brass grunted. "You can go - a writing sample is not necessary. But we might want to talk to you again, so stay in Las Vegas. And if you think of anything new, let us know."  
  
Oscar stood and stretched, smiling smugly. "I doubt I'll think of anything. If I do, I'll call. Say hi to Greg for me." With that, he turned and sauntered out of the room. Grissom looked at Catherine, annoyed. "Something's not right here. His answers were too pat. And why would he offer to give us a handwriting sample? He has to realize we already have one."  
  
"Then again, he could just be a cocky guy with a chip on his shoulder." Catherine smiled at Grissom. "He wouldn't be the first we've ever run across. You know what I thought was weird? He told us to say hello to Greg for him. Why would he do that? Greg didn't sound like they were great friends or anything - said he was an idiot. So why bring Greg's name into it at all?"  
  
Grissom sighed, and started pinching between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know. I just don't know. But I don't like it, Catherine. Not at all."  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions. I do take all comments and ideas to heart, plus they give me ideas for other stories. Things are heating up in the case, and Greg may be the catalyst - so keep reading! 


	19. DOUBTS

XIX - DOUBTS  
  
"Well, that was fairly shut and dry." Nick's voice was flat as he snapped his field kit shut. "On the bright side, good case to learn on, Greg."  
  
Greg looked a little queasy as he peeled off his latex gloves. "How long does it take to get used to the blood?"  
  
"Not long. You did good, Greg. The first murder / suicide I processed, I tossed my cookies in the side garden before we left. I hate to say it though, you do get - immune? - if that's the right word." Warrick's voice was encouraging, and he smiled at the young lab tech.  
  
Sara piped up. "You'll get used to it. You reacted much better than you did when you helped out at that bus accident. It's always hard though - especially murder /suicides. They're pointless. If you want to kill yourself, fine - do it. But to take out another person with you? I don't think I'll ever be able to understand that."  
  
Greg was listening intently to the other three, nodding his head. "I never realized how much you have to be aware of when you're processing a scene like that. I mean, obviously, on a theoretical level I knew. But when you have to put it into practice - there's so many things - it's hard to remember it all."  
  
"Nah. Eventually, it will get to be like second nature. Besides which, you've got a good start - you look behind the obvious for hints anyway. All the lab work you do proves that, so you already know how to use your head. You just have to apply it differently when you're actually processing a scene." Nick handed Greg his field kit. "We need to get you your own field kit if you're going to be joining us more often. Want me to take you shopping for a case after shift?"  
  
Greg looked at Nick, startled at his offer, his eyes glancing quickly at Sara. "Really? You'd do that?"  
  
Nick shrugged. "Sure. I have to go shopping anyway - some things to pick up." He looked at Sara, grinning. "And since absence makes the heart grow fonder -"  
  
Sara snorted. "I've got some things to do, too. So Greg, you'd be doing me a favor if you get him out of my hair for a few hours. I'll even pay you for the babysitting."  
  
Warrick laughed. "Babysitting. That's so true - she's got your number, Nick. C'mon. Let's haul ass and get back to the lab. Maybe Grissom and Catherine have nailed the K-ROX murderer."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was sitting in the break room, raptly staring at the microwave. He had a crossword puzzle in front of him, but his mind was on other things. He knew he should be thinking about the case, and a part of him was, but another part of him - the emotional part of him, was thinking of Catherine.  
  
His time with her after last night's shift had been - spectacular. He had felt more alive and more connected to a human being then he ever had before in his entire life. But with the light of day - or in this case, night - the feelings of euphoria had quickly faded, to be replaced by confusion and lingering doubt. Grissom was not used to questioning himself; had always considered himself a self-confident man, but as the hours had passed, doubts had quickly surfaced. What was Catherine doing with him? Sure, she was his best friend and he was beginning to realize how much he loved her, but did she love him back, or did she just feel sorry for him? Grissom just didn't know.  
  
When he looked at Catherine he saw a brilliant woman, beautiful, personable - the life of the party. She was the most nurturing person he had ever met, and she had the heart and intelligence to make her one of the truly unique people in his life. Every man that passed within radius of Catherine was immediately charmed by her wit and intelligence, dazzled by her beauty - they all ended up falling in love with her, just a little bit.  
  
And he, well, Grissom knew his own shortcomings. He was an intelligent man, sure. That couldn't be denied. He was very good at what he did, but he was quirky and eccentric, and he knew it. Catherine had said he had beautiful eyes, and Grissom believed she meant it, but they were the high light of what he considered an otherwise very bland face. His hair was thick, but curly and graying, and if he didn't keep it cropped close to his head, he looked like a Q-tip. The rest of his features were - average. He was in good shape, but again, nothing spectacular. Where Catherine was like a beautiful hummingbird, he was a like a Grackle. Dull. Boring. Average. And what would a hummingbird want with a grackle?  
  
He jumped in surprise as he felt Catherine slide into the empty spot next to him on the small vinyl sofa. He turned startled eyes on her, and was overwhelmed by the feelings of inadequacy that swamped him. He quickly looked away.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Her voice was soft. Grissom looked at her again, and he smiled nervously. He felt a hand fall to his knee, and forcibly swallowed back the soft sigh that almost escaped at her gentle touch. He didn't say anything.  
  
"Gil? Is something wrong? You look a little - pre-occupied." Again, her soft voice intruded on his thoughts. He detected a hint of concern.  
  
He looked at her hand on his knee, before twisting slightly to face her. "Can I ask you a question? In all seriousness?" His voice was low-pitched and serious. Catherine smiled at him, but he sensed a growing trepidation in her gaze. She nodded.  
  
"What was last night all about? You didn't feel sorry for me, did you?" Grissom regretted his words the minute they were out of his mouth. Catherine pulled her hand away and quickly sat up. Her face had quickly flushed a deep red, and her eyes flashed at him angrily.  
  
"Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" Her voice was deadly calm, but each word clipped his already raw nerves like a whip. "You think I *slept* with you - I had sex with you - because I feel sorry for you?" Before Grissom could respond, try to rephrase his question, she continued. "What type of person do you think I am, Grissom? 'Oh, poor Grissom, he's had a bad day - maybe a little mercy fuck will cheer him up?'" Her voice was incredulous, and Grissom could see she was shaking. Her eyes shone like emeralds through the tears she was trying not to cry. "Sometimes Grissom, you are such an asshole. I can't believe we're even friends if your opinion of me is that low."  
  
Grissom quickly stood as Catherine jumped to her feet, reaching out to her before she could leave the break room. She pulled away from him, spinning just out of his reach. All of a sudden, her voice broke. "I always knew you had the power to break my heart, Gil. I just didn't think you would do it so soon. I'm going down to my office. And I don't want to see you following me. If you need me for anything work related, send someone else to get me."  
  
Grissom sank back into the vinyl loveseat, lowering his head in his hands. And that's how the others found him 20 minutes later.  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: Poor Grissom! I got to thinking how he would react to an unexpected night of passion with Catherine, and thought this would be the way he would go. He's always struck me as a little naïve about matters of the heart, and his obsessive need to analyze things would get him in trouble in a situation such as this. Plus, he doesn't strike me as someone confident in his own physicality - he's awkward and geeky, and underestimates his attractions all the time. Hence - this chapter. Let me know what you all think. 


	20. APOLOGIES

XX - APOLOGIES  
  
Nick noticed him first. He was first into the break room; having bolted from the car the minute Warrick had pulled into the parking lot, laughingly telling the others he was going to grab the last cup of coffee. Grissom had been sitting there so silently, Nick had not even noticed him until he had turned from the coffee maker.  
  
"Grissom? What's the problem? Are you getting a migraine?" Grissom looked up at Nick with bleary eyes, shaking his head.  
  
"No. No, I'm fine. Is there any more coffee in there?"  
  
"Yeah - I can pour you the last cup. The others will love that." Quickly matching his actions to his words, he walked over to where Grissom was sitting, handing him a cup of the strong brew. "I have to tell you, Grissom. You look like hell. We've only been gone for 3 ½ hours, and when we left you looked fine." Nick's voice was concerned. "Did you and Catherine fight again?"  
  
Grissom look at Nick, surprised at the astuteness and concern in the younger man's voice. He could hear the laughing voices of Sara, Warrick and Greg echoing up the hall, and shot a concerned glance at the doorway before looking back to Nick. "Listen, Nick. I blew it - I said something really stupid, and she's angry with me. But I don't want to talk about it." He glanced quickly at the doorway again. "Please, just drop it for now."  
  
Nick smiled at Grissom in commiseration. "I'll back you up. But I'm coming to find you when we have a free minute." Grissom nodded mutely, before plastering a fake look of concentration on his face and picking up his crossword.  
  
"Nick! I swear, if you took the last cup of coffee -" Sara's voice was teasing as she entered the lounge, followed by Greg and Warrick.  
  
Nick quickly turned towards her, masking his concern for Grissom under a big grin. "Wasn't me, Sara. It was Grissom." He indicated the coffee cup in Grissom's hand, "He's the culprit - and you can't yell at him, he's the boss."  
  
Sara sighed. "Well, the least you could do is start a fresh pot. You know I can't make this stuff!"  
  
"I'll do it." Greg offered. "I've got my special blend in the fridge in my lab. I figure today is a special occasion, so I'll share. Hey Grissom!"  
  
Grissom looked around, smiling weakly. Sara noticed immediately that something was wrong, but didn't say anything when Nick cocked an eyebrow at her and laid a hand on her wrist. "I'll go get the coffee, Greggo. Why don't you do the honors - tell Grissom what we found." He headed out of the lounge quickly, dragging Sara with him. Once they were in Greg's lab, he turned to her.  
  
"Don't ask Grissom what's wrong. He doesn't want to go into it. I already tried. He feels really bad about something. Why don't you go and find Catherine? See if she wants some coffee - find out what's going on with K- ROX? See if she knows what's wrong with Grissom."  
  
Sara nodded. "I'll head down to her office right now, assuming that's where she is. I wonder what happened."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So, the hand-writing analysis came back negative, eh?" Greg looked a little disheartened at Grissom's news. "So, basically, we're back to square one."  
  
"Not necessarily, Greg. We still have his fingerprints all over the letter and envelope. I thought maybe you might be able to shed some light on what this guy is like, what he does. You said he was in a band with a friend of yours, so you might know more about him than you realize." Grissom's voice was sill tense, but concentrating on the K-ROX case was helping take his mind off Catherine a little bit.  
  
"I'll help in whatever way I can," Greg agreed "but I really don't know him that well. In the meantime, I suppose I should run the rest of the fingerprints." He sighed. "I was sort of hoping I had opened the case up with that."  
  
Warrick smiled at him. "Those prints could still be the case-breaker, Greg. C'mon, I'll help you run them."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine was sitting at her desk staring at her computer screen when Sara knocked on the door and walked in. Catherine's eyes were red rimmed, and she looked like she had been crying. Sara sighed. Something had definitely happened.  
  
"Hey Catherine. We're back. Thought you might like to come down to the break room and join us for some of Greg's coffee and an update. We're all curious as to what you and Gris learned from Oscar."  
  
Catherine didn't even look at her. "I don't think so, Sara. Grissom can fill you in. I'm - busy."  
  
Sara walked towards Catherine's desk, sitting on the edge of it, and leaning forward to look at the screen. "Solitaire, Catherine?" her voice was gently teasing, even as her eyes flashed their concern.  
  
Catherine sighed, in irritation and defeat. "Sara, I don't really want to talk right now."  
  
"Grissom told me the exact same thing yesterday." Sara interrupted.  
  
"I especially don't want to talk about Grissom."  
  
Sara leaned closer to her friend. "Why not? You both seemed pretty happy when shift started. All the tension from the last few days was gone. And now we're back, and Grissom is sitting in the lounge looking like his best friend died and you're in your office playing Solitaire and refusing to talk. What happened?"  
  
"He said something really stupid, and I lost my temper with him and yelled. I shouldn't have. I over-reacted, and now I don't know what to do." Catherine looked Sara full in the face, feeling the tears swim up in her eyes again.  
  
"What did he say, Catherine?"  
  
Catherine sighed. "Well, he came to my place to talk after shift yesterday. You knew that, though. He said it was your idea. Well, anyway - he. I. We." She paused, at a loss for words, glancing at Sara from under her eyelids. Sara was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"No need to elaborate! I get the picture. So, was it good?" Her gentle teasing and forth right acceptance made Catherine smile back weakly.  
  
"It was wonderful! He's wonderful. I was so happy! But you know Grissom."  
  
Sara nodded. "He starts analyzing things, wondering what it all meant - doubting himself. Typical Grissom." She patted Catherine's hand sympathetically. "What did he say?"  
  
Catherine sighed again. "It was innocuous, really. I just jumped off the deep end, and totally lost it." She looked at Sara, who was just sitting there, patiently waiting for her to spill. "Okay. He asked me if I slept with him because I felt sorry for him."  
  
"Oh Grissom." Sara's voice was exasperated and soft. "You are such an idiot sometimes."  
  
Catherine sighed wetly, not sure whether to giggle or cry. "Exactly. But Sara - I was rotten to him."  
  
"Mercy sex." Sara said matter of factly. "I completely understand why you would be upset. But this is Grissom. Don't you think you should let the guy off the hook - let him apologize to you? You know that's not what he meant."  
  
"I know. I have to talk to him. I don't want him to be miserable." She looked at Sara again. "How did you do it? How did you transition with Nick from friends to lovers?"  
  
"It wasn't hard. Because there was no transition, really. We're still friends." Sara looked at Catherine intently, before continuing. "But I wouldn't have gone there if Nick hadn't pushed me. And he was so subtle about it, I never even knew what was coming. I just realized that I was attracted to him, and then I realized that I wanted to be with him."  
  
Sara smiled. "But Catherine, you have to remember, Nick and I have only known each other two years. You're trying to augment a friendship you've had for what? Ten years or so? You're taking a much larger risk. So, you're probably nervous as well. You know Grissom is going to go into any type of relationship with you questioning himself - he can't help it. So, you have to be the one that's absolutely sure. You can't be questioning yourself or him, or it will never work. Is it worth it?"  
  
Catherine sighed. "I think I've been in love with him for years. He's so - I don't know. There's just an innocence about him that is so at odds with a man of his age. And Sara, I'm not innocent. I was a stripper, for God's sake. I was an addict. I'm divorced, I have a daughter. And I wonder, maybe Gil deserves better. No man has ever treated me the way he does. What if it doesn't work out, and I loose that?"  
  
"What if it does work out, and you don't?" Sara smiled. "You need to talk to him, Catherine. For your sake as well as for his. I personally believe Grissom has been half in love with you for years, and he's just been burying it behind friendship. But I want him to be happy, Catherine. And I want you to be happy. When shift started, you were happy. And now you're not. So, what does that tell you?"  
  
Catherine didn't respond immediately, turning back to her solitaire game and making a few plays. Sara just sat there, patiently waiting. Suddenly Catherine turned back to her and smiled. "My whole life has been taking risks - so, why should that change now?"  
  
The two women grinned at each other, and Sara started giggling. "Wow. Now that we've cleared that up, I just have to ask - did Grissom sweep you off your feet while discussing the mating rituals of the butterfly moth?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Sara walked into the break room to find Grissom and Nick just sitting there. Nick had been trying to get Grissom to tell him what was wrong, but thus far Grissom had disclosed nothing. Seeing Catherine, Nick jumped up. "Hey Catherine. Can I get you a coffee?"  
  
"No thanks, Nick." She looked at him briefly, before her gaze drifted over to Grissom. "I came to see if Grissom wanted to take a short break and go grab dinner with me." Behind Catherine, Sara was grinning.  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine for a brief moment, wincing as he saw her puffy eyes. He dropped his crossword puzzle on the table, and stood quickly walking over to her side. "Will you let me buy?"  
  
Catherine nodded and flashed Grissom a tentative watery smile. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."  
  
"I'm sorry I'm an asshole." His response was wry, but it made Catherine laugh. They had forgotten Sara and Nick were even standing there. Grissom leaned forward and gently caressed her cheek. "I love you, Catherine."  
  
__________  
  
Author's Note: Okay, okay. I know I messed with you all a little in the last chapter - but I had too. In a situation like this, Grissom would definitely say something a little stupid, and Catherine would jump off the deep-end. But you knew they would make up. Admit it! Next chapter - on with the case. And Greg and Nick go shopping. 


	21. FRIENDS AND LOVERS

XXI - FRIENDS AND LOVERS  
  
As Grissom and Catherine exited the building to go grab a bite to eat, they passed Greg's friend Ray, and another young man with a Mohawk.  
  
"Hey Mr. Grissom, Ms. Willows." Ray greeted  
  
"Good evening Ray." Grissom politely acknowledged the young man. "You looking for Greg?"  
  
"Yeah. He called Dave earlier, and asked if he would swing. He's the bass player for Let's Get Grumpy. I thought I would come along."  
  
Catherine smiled at the young man. He grinned back. "Well, Greg is in the lab with Warrick. Make sure you get a visitors pass before you head down there."  
  
The two young men said their goodbyes, and Grissom turned to Catherine. "I think I'm starting to get used to today's odd hairstyles - I didn't even blink at the Mohawk." They continued walking towards the Tahoe, and Grissom smiled when he felt Catherine's hand slip into his.  
  
"I really am sorry Gil."  
  
Grissom smiled and squeezed her hand back. "I am too. Shall we grab some Chinese?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Warrick looked up from the fingerprints they were running Ray and Dave walked into the lab.  
  
"Hey man, what's up?" Dave asked, looking around the lab in awe. "Cool man. Look at all this stuff."  
  
"Dave! Thanks for coming. Hi, Ray." Greg walked over to his friends, and quickly introduced Warrick. "I was wondering if I could ask you some questions." Greg smiled at his friend, before looking at Ray. "But, I need to talk to you in private - so Ray, do you mind?"  
  
Ray grinned and shrugged. "No, man. Go ahead. Y'already talked to me yesterday. But I'm Dave's ride, so where do you want me to wait?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ray was sitting in the break room, drinking coffee and chatting with Nick and Sara, as Greg and Warrick followed Dave into interview room one.  
  
"So, what's up, man. What do you need?"  
  
Greg looked at Dave and smiled. "I need to ask you some questions about someone, but it has to be totally on the QT. You can't tell anyone we were talking, okay?"  
  
Dave shuddered dramatically. "Ooh. Sounds serious. Is it about the murders?"  
  
Warrick nodded. "We can't go into any detail, but yeah. Not necessarily about the murderer though."  
  
Dave sighed. "Okay, I get it. Just answer questions, but don't ask any." He looked at Greg. "Shoot."  
  
"What can you tell me about Oscar Fennil?"  
  
"Oscar? He's a dink. You know that."  
  
"Yeah. I remember what he was like when he played with you guys. But I need to know, what was he like outside of the band? You know what I mean? Who does he hang with - did he ever do weird things when he was in your band? What are his interests?"  
  
Dave shrugged. "He hangs with the other guys in Killjoy. He and Edd seem pretty tight. He's really conceited - you remember that. Thinks he's the best drummer in the world." Dave grinned. "He's not a big fan of yours, because he knows you're better. He's a smart guy, though. Almost as smart as you. Remember the crazy ideas he used to come up with when we would talk about offing your boss?"  
  
Warrick looked at Greg, startled. Greg smiled at him weakly. "It was nothing. Just, sometimes - when Grissom would piss me off, Dave and I would try to think off the perfect way to get him. I meant nothing by it."  
  
Warrick grinned. "Let's hope Grissom never learns about it - you'll be back doing just lab work so fast your head will spin."  
  
Greg sighed and nodded, before turning to Dave again. "I don't really remember Oscar participating in any of those conversations."  
  
"Sure you do - he'd ask you questions about DNA tracing and stuff like that, and then say things like 'Wear a full length raincoat so he can't scratch you!' - stuff like that."  
  
Greg was thoughtful, nodding. "Yeah. Actually, I do remember that. And he started reading all those true crime novels, and suggesting ways to improve on the murders in them. It was creepy."  
  
"One of the reasons we kicked him out. He was crazy. He almost killed a guy at one of our shows once, remember? We had asked you to come up and drum on a couple of songs with us, which he wasn't happy about, and then when you left and Oscar came back the guy started hollering to bring back the better drummer. I thought he was going to ram his drumsticks through the guys' eye socket."  
  
Greg grinned. "Right. He was pissed off at that guy and at me."  
  
Warrick was looking thoughtful. "Do you know if he has any experience with guns?"  
  
Dave looked at him, nodding. "He works at a shooting range during the day - Ridge Rifle Range."  
  
Warrick and Greg smiled at each other, and Greg turned to Dave. "I never knew that. Is there anything else you can think off?"  
  
Dave shrugged. "He was upset when they couldn't compete in the Battle of the Bands. That's about it though." He looked at Greg thoughtfully, before adding, "They were talking about putting together a private CD - they were trying to negotiate a deal with Murdoch - you know, session work for him for free studio time. Murdoch wasn't buying it."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Did you mean what you said, back in the lounge." Catherine asked Grissom, between bites of lemon chicken.  
  
"What? About me being an asshole?" Grissom responded softly, "or about me loving you?"  
  
"Both."  
  
Grissom smiled. "Yeah, I meant it. I'm just surprised. I'm sorry about what I asked you - I didn't mean it to come out like it did. I was just - I don't understand why you would want me, of all people. We're nothing alike, and you - Catherine. You're so beautiful. You could have any one you wanted."  
  
"I've come to realize that you're the one I want, Gil." Catherine's voice was soft, her smile tremulous. "I was just worried that once you had time to think about it, you would retreat and I would end up hurt, and so I reacted badly to your questions. This - us - it's a big step. And I don't want to lose you."  
  
"Do you think we could muddle through it together?" Grissom's voice was gentle. "I don't want to lose you, either. Especially now that I know what I've been missing." He flushed as Catherine shot him an amused look. "I didn't mean *that*. I meant -"  
  
Catherine laughed softly. "I know what you meant, Gil. So, are we still friends?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "Always friends."  
  
Catherine smiled at him. "Friends and lovers."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg and Warrick were back in the break room, chatting with Sara and Nick. "Do you think we would be able to get a warrant of some kind for the shooting range? Our murder weapon could be there."  
  
Sara bit her lip, contemplating. "I don't know if we have enough evidence to actually get a warrant issued. All we have are fingerprints on a letter we cannot link to him through writing analysis, and the fact he works at a shooting range."  
  
"Can't we use his participation in conversations regarding committing a crime, avoiding DNA tracing etc. - can't we use that against him?" Nick asked.  
  
"Not unless you're going to use it against me too." Greg interjected. "Just because someone talks about committing a crime doesn't mean they're going too." He sighed. "I wish I'd never even talked about it."  
  
Warrick grinned at him. "Just remind me never to piss you off, Greg. I'd hate to think of the many ways you could come up with killing me!"  
  
"Why would Greg want to kill you, Warrick?" Grissom's voice made everyone jump. He walked into the lounge smiling, following Catherine. Nick grinned when he saw Grissom's hand at the small of Catherine's back.  
  
"Hey Grissom, Greg and Warrick have some interesting news."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow, sliding into an empty seat at the table. "Oh? Do tell."  
  
Greg and Warrick quickly filled Grissom in on their conversation with Dave, Greg haltingly admitting that they had had a conversation once about the best way to get rid of an annoying boss, and Oscar's questions about DNA. Grissom smiled at Greg's obvious discomfort, but didn't say anything until the two men had finished.  
  
He looked at Greg thoughtfully. "So, interested in hiding DNA and works at a shooting range. Fingerprints linking him to the letter. Anger at not being allowed to compete. Maybe we can get a warrant - Brass is really pushing to get this solved so I'll ask him to pull some favors for us." He smiled at Greg. "After we close this case, maybe you and I should get together and talk. I'm always interested in studying how the criminal mind works - and I might get some good ideas from you in case Mobley gets to be too much around here."  
  
It took a few seconds for everyone to realize Grissom was teasing Greg. It was so unexpected, they sat at the table silently for a few moments, gaping at each other in shock. Grissom was the first to start laughing.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I can't believe Grissom didn't freak out about the whole 'kill your boss' thing." Greg was still expressing his surprise a couple hours later, as he and Nick parked at the mall. "I felt like taking his temperature and asking him who he was and what he had done with the real Grissom!"  
  
Nick laughed, shaking his head. "And not only that, he still offered to take us all out to dinner before shift starts this evening to celebrate your promotion. He's definitely mellowing."  
  
The two younger CSIs had left work less than 20 minutes ago, Nick living up to his promise to take Greg to buy a field kit. He was surprised that he had even offered - less than three months ago, he probably wouldn't have. But Sara seemed to enjoy spending time with Greg, and as Nick had gotten to know him better he realized that he really liked the young lab tech.  
  
"I thought we would hit McCurdy Hunting first. That's were I got my big field kit - it's actually a heavy duty tackle box, but you can move around the compartments and adjust the size. Most of the items you'll need to fill it with you can get back at the lab - swabs, containers, baggies - that sort of thing. But you will need to pick up scissors, tweezers - I'll make you a list."  
  
"I really appreciate you're doing this, Nick. I'm still sort of blown away by everything, and I wouldn't know where to start."  
  
Nick grinned. "No problem. I needed to come to the mall anyway - I want to get Sara a present, and I didn't want her around when I bought it."  
  
"A present? Like what - a ring or something?"  
  
Nick's loud snort of laughter made Greg jump. "No - we haven't even been seeing each other for two weeks yet. If I did something like that, Sara would think I was crazy!"  
  
"But you want to, right? Buy her a ring, I mean." Greg's statement was serious. He looked at Nick and grinned when he squirmed.  
  
Nick sighed. "Maybe, eventually. For me, this is the real deal. But Sara - she's different. She never really had much of a family. She has no brothers or sisters. She never had pets. I think I have to take things slowly with her, let her get used to the idea of living together before I spring anything like marriage and kids on her."  
  
Greg rolled his eyes. "Well, since it took two years for you to get up the nerve to tell her how you felt, I suppose that means I can expect a wedding invitation in another couple of years or so. Or do you plan on taking things more slowly this time?" His tone was teasing, and he grinned when Nick blushed.  
  
"You are so - annoying sometimes." Nick grumbled, but he was smiling. "Did I tell you she agreed to move in with me? We're going to start moving her stuff on Saturday."  
  
"Well, that's a good start." They walked into McCurdy's, and started inspecting the tackle boxes. "So, I can just imagine what a kid of yours would be like - obsessed with bones and football. Hopefully, they'd have Sara's brains."  
  
Nick punched Greg in the shoulder. "Don't be saying stuff like that to Sara. You'll freak her out."  
  
Greg just grinned. "And normally, it's the guy that gets all nervous when you start talking marriage and children. That's a real traditional relationship you've got going there, Nick." Greg paused and picked up a good sized tackle box in a thick translucent apple green. "I think I like this one."  
  
Nick looked at it dubiously. "Wouldn't you rather go with the standard black? Like everyone else has?"  
  
"No way, Nick. Why be like everyone else, when you can be different?" Laughing, he took the box to the cashier and quickly paid for it. "I think I'll get Dave to paint some eyeballs on it for me - he's very artistic. So, where to next, Nick?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
The two men sat in the food court, Greg eating an A&W Breakfast of eggs and hash browns. He stared in disgust as Nick liberally doctored his breakfast with several packets of cayenne pepper.  
  
"I can't believe you're gonna eat those."  
  
"What?" Nick looked down at the big plate of French fries in front of him. They were smothered in extra hot chili with generous dollops of sour cream and cheese right in the middle. "Texas Fries - they're awesome."  
  
"They'll kill you."  
  
Nick just laughed. "I was raised on these things." He ate half of his plate before he looked at Greg again. Greg was just finishing his breakfast as well.  
  
"So Greg. I have to ask. I've known you for 2 years now, and I realized the other day I don't know anything about you. Tell me something about yourself."  
  
"Not much to tell, Nick. What you see is what you get." Greg shrugged.  
  
"No - c'mon. You know about me - I've told you about my family, stuff like that. But I didn't even know you were a musician until like - two days ago? Three days ago? Does your family live in Las Vegas?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I never knew my family." He tried not to look at Nick as he dropped this bomb shell.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I grew up in foster homes. I was taken away from my mother when I was two because she was a drug addict. She died when I was nine of an overdose, and I just stayed in the system. I went to court and became legally emancipated from my last set of foster parents and from the foster system when I was 16. I convinced the court to declare me a legal adult."  
  
Nick looked at Greg in shock. "You've been on your own since you were sixteen? What about your dad - or your grandparents?"  
  
Greg shrugged again. "What about them? I have no idea who my dad is - there's no name on the birth certificate. And my mother was a runaway - turned to drugs and hooking to stay alive. I have no idea where she was from."  
  
Nick sighed. "Geez, Greg. That's rough."  
  
"Now you see why I don't talk about it much." He looked at Nick and smiled. "Listen, Nick. Don't look so upset. I'm doing okay, and I feel like you guys - you and Sara, Warrick, Catherine - even Grissom - I sort of consider you like my family."  
  
Nick looked at Greg and smiled shakily. "I'm really sorry Greg." Nick was looking at the younger man intently, a million thoughts running through his head. The foremost emotion he felt was one of great respect - he realized that Greg, despite his slight frame, was emotionally very strong. He would have to be to have come out of the foster system relatively unscathed and so successful - especially considering he'd been on his own for so long. Nick couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up with no family - no brothers, no sisters. He didn't know if he himself would have been able to do it.  
  
"So, if you think of us as a surrogate family, does this mean I finally get to be someone's big brother?" Nick's tone was teasing, and he smiled when Greg smiled back.  
  
"I always wanted a brother. I just never imagined he'd have a Texas accent." He loaded up his tray. "If you're finished eating that slop, let's finish shopping. I have to get home and catch some sleep before we have to go back to work."  
  
______  
  
Author's note: Okay - this was a really long chapter. Please R&R I'm really enjoying the vibe I'm getting from Nick and Greg. And for all you Nick and Sara worshippers out there - don't worry - there's more coming up. And of course - on with the case. 


	22. PRESENTS

XXII - PRESENTS  
  
"Sara is going to kill you!" Greg was shaking his head, laughing at the big box on his lap. "I can't believe you would just bet her this without talking to her first!"  
  
Nick was a little defensive. "Why? I think she'll like it."  
  
Greg rolled his eyes. "That's not the point, Nick. This is Sara we're talking about. Sara who hates surprises - Sara who can't even keep a cactus alive."  
  
Nick sat in silence for a second, his knuckles tense around the steering wheel of his truck. He looked at Greg again, and then at the box - this time a little dubiously. "You really think she'll be upset?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "She's your girlfriend man. You tell me."  
  
Nick didn't respond, but then he smiled. "Want to come back to my place with me and help me give it to her?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "I see through that ploy, Nick - and you can forget it. This was your idea, so you can just drop me off first, thank you very much. I'll see you at dinner tonight, and you can tell me all about it - that is, if you're still alive."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was at Nick's place, flicking through the channels absently. She paused on Sesame Street, laughing as she watched Ernie explain to Bert why he had to wear a pot on his head instead of his cowboy hat. Sinking down into Nick's sofa, she picked up a t-shirt that was bunched in the corner and hugged it to herself. It smelled like Nick. Sara couldn't believe how stir crazy she felt sitting here in his place all by herself. She knew he was going to be home soon - it was already just after 11:00, and he had said he would meet her no later than 11:30, but Sara was restless. She was surprised to realize that she missed him, which was insane really. Since they had started seeing each other outside of work, they had spent every single day together. On the weekend, she was going to move in with him - despite the fact she still have to pay rent at her apartment for another full month.  
  
She turned off the TV and wandered over to the stereo, putting on STYX again, singing along to "The Best of Times" at the top of her lungs as she looked through his book case. Finding an old photo album, she pulled it out. Inside of it were pictures of Nick and his family - naked baby photos of Nick on a fluffy blue blanket, several shots of Nick with his brothers and sisters, an old school photo of Nick with a huge grin on his face and two missing front teeth. She laughed at some of the clothes in the pictures, and smiled at a picture captioned: Joe decides to cut Nick's hair. In this picture, Nick stood with an older boy who was obviously his brother. The older boy was holding a pair of scissors and grinning and little Nick had several patches of skin showing through an otherwise serviceable bowl cut. Sara was still giggling at the pictures when Nick walked in.  
  
"Found my photos, did you?" He walked over to her smiling, pulling her to him and giving her a kiss. "Did you like my naked Nick baby pics at the front? I had a bod, even then."  
  
Sara laughed. "I guess you have to have a Texas-sized ego, considering where you're from and all." Closing the photo album, she put it down on the coffee table and kissed him back.  
  
"How did it go with Greg?"  
  
"Fine. He found a field kit he liked, and get this - it's translucent apple green." Nick rolled his eyes, and Sara laughed.  
  
"Sounds perfect for Greg. What else did you do."  
  
"I bought you a present."  
  
Sara grinned. "Really? What? Where is it? Can I have it now?"  
  
Nick laughed. "I can just imagine you at Christmas time. I'll go get it; I left it in the front hall." He paused, suddenly nervous. "I hope you'll like it, because I can't take it back."  
  
"I always like presents." Sara reassured him. "Should I sit down?"  
  
"Yeah, sit on the sofa. I'll be back in a second." Nick left the room, and Sara practically vaulted over the coffee table onto the sofa. When Nick returned carrying a large box, she started bouncing up and down.  
  
"Is that it? Can I shake it? Should I guess?"  
  
"No - don't shake it! You'll break it. Open the box very carefully." Nick sat beside Sara on the sofa, handing the box to her. "I hope you won't be mad at me."  
  
Sara opened the box slowly as Nick had suggested, and almost dropped it in shock when a fuzzy little head popped out of the top, green eyes blinking at her. She stared at the tiny kitten in amazement, reaching out a tentative hand and stroking its soft fur with her finger.  
  
"It's a kitten." She stated. She looked at Nick. "You bought me a kitten."  
  
Nick squirmed. "I got her at the ASPCA. She was born there, and was the last in the litter to be adopted. Her mother was rescued from an abusive situation." He watched as Sara reached gently into the box, and lifted the tiny creature out. The kitten immediately started batting at Sara's hair. Sara smiled, before looking at Nick again.  
  
"I thought you might like to have a pet - you did mention a couple of days ago you never had one growing up. And you've just - you've always reminded me of a cat, Sara." He smiled at her as he gently untangled one of the kitten's tiny paws from Sara's hair, stroking the captured tendrils between his thumb and forefinger. "You're independent and intelligent, but you have a playful side to you as well - just like a cat. You like your space, but when the right people are around you, you don't mind being social." Nick's tone turned teasing, as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "And, when I pet you in the right places, you purr."  
  
Sara was looking at Nick, tears filling her eyes even as she giggled. She absently brushed her sleeve across her face, and looked at the kitten. "She's beautiful. She's the best present anyone ever gave me." She smiled at him again. "I can't believe you bought me a kitten. What's her name?"  
  
Nick sighed in relief, "You can name her whatever you want her." He smiled as the kitten curled up on Sara's lap , promptly falling asleep. He reached out and stroked the tiny body, feeling its purr vibrating through his fingertips. "You really like her?"  
  
Sara nodded. "I love her." She smiled at Nick. "I wish I could give you something."  
  
"You've already given me everything I ever wanted, Sara." Nick leaned in a quickly kissed her. "Now that I know you like her, I can bring the rest of her stuff in from the truck. I'll set up the litter box in the laundry room, and put out some food for her."  
  
Sara nodded at him absently as she gently stroked the kitten. Nick could hear her mumbling under her breath as he headed to the front door. "What are we going to name you? Fluffy? No, too girly. Geiger? No - that's just stupid. Latent Print Powder? That's a silly name for a cat."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara and Nick were the last to arrive for Greg's celebration dinner. Greg grinned when he saw them walking to the table, and quickly slid over to make room for them. "So, Nick - you're still here. I take it Sara liked her present."  
  
Nick smiled. "Why do you think we're late? I couldn't drag her away."  
  
Warrick laughed. "So, you like your kitten, Sara? Greg told us all about it. What did you name her?"  
  
Sara grinned. "No name yet. I'm working on it - suggestions are welcome. Sorry we're late - you guys order yet?"  
  
"Just the unlimited salad and bread, so far." Catherine replied dryly. "Greg also told us you're moving into Nick's place over the weekend. Need any help?"  
  
Sara blushed, jabbing Greg with her elbow. "Greg's just a regular font of information, isn't he? But yeah, any help I can get I'll take. I've got a ton of stuff to relocate."  
  
The waitress interrupted their conversation, quickly taking their orders, before hurrying to her next table. Sara looked at Grissom and smiled. "Haven't heard much from you tonight, Grissom. What's new?"  
  
Grissom shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun." He smiled at Catherine. Under the table, she gave his knee a squeeze, grinning when he jumped. Sara giggled and winked at Catherine, who winked back.  
  
They group fell into companionable conversation, at times teasing each other, as dinner arrived. After they had eaten, Grissom grabbed a small bag that had been sitting on the floor by his feet, handing it to Greg.  
  
"I bought you a little gift, to commemorate your promotion. Take the top one first." Greg grinned as he opened the bag and removed a magnifying glass from the top of the bag. "It's to help you find clues." Grissom added, as everyone laughed.  
  
"Wow - thanks Grissom. This is cool! I always wanted one of these." Greg turned it over in his hands, examining the glass, before handing it to Warrick to look at. He reached into the bag, and removed a second gift - a black t-shirt with a caricature of an armless man centered in the middle of the shirt. Surrounding him in big red letters, Greg read: 'I'd give my right hand to be ambidextrous'. He started laughing.  
  
"This is awesome. I'm going to put it on when we get back to the lab!" He smiled at Grissom.  
  
"I immediately thought of you when I saw that shirt. Welcome to the team - officially - Greg." Grissom looked at his watch. "I hate to rush you guys, but we're all supposed to meet Brass in 30 minutes. He managed to get a search warrant today for Rifle Ridge and confiscated a couple of guns. One of them matched the murder weapon. He wants us to meet him at a place called Orpheum - Killjoy is playing there tonight. He wants to bring Oscar in for official questioning."  
  
______ 


	23. VIOLENCE FETISH

XXIII - VIOLENCE FETISH  
  
The Orpheum was packed, and Grissom grimaced as he circled the parking lot for the second time looking for a parking space. "I don't understand why Brass wants us all to come here to take this guy in. I could have just sent Nick and Warrick." He grumbled.  
  
Sitting beside him, Catherine smiled. "Gil, does it matter? I think Brass is concerned since we're on this guys' turf, taking him from a performance. The more people we have here, the less likely there will be a problem."  
  
"We're not cops, Catherine. We're criminalists." He smiled at her. "But you make sense. I'm just not looking forward to the music." Spotting a free place, he quickly pulled in and parked.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Greg, I can't believe this thing still moves." Warrick laughed as he climbed out of Greg's little silver Toyota Tercel hatchback. He had asked Greg about it as they drove over, and Greg had told him it was an '85. The amount of mileage on it was ridiculous, and the body had definitely seen better days. A big pair of fuzzy scented dice hung of the front mirror. "Three more years and it will be a classic!"  
  
Greg grinned, running his hand over the top of the car lovingly. "Silverbelle already is a classic, aren't you baby?" He grinned at Warrick. "I have to sweet talk her, or else she gets moody and refuses to go anywhere. Grissom and Catherine parked over there somewhere. I guess we'll meet them inside. But first, I want to put on my new shirt."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Sara were already in the Orpheum talking to Brass when everyone else walked in. "What took you so long? Brass was about to put out an APB!"  
  
Grissom scowled. "Funny, Nick. It was hard to find a parking spot out there. This place is packed. Brass - what's up?"  
  
"Not much. I want to try to get Oscar to come with us without causing problems, but Killjoy is the opening band tonight. I would have brought him in earlier and avoided all this, but we couldn't find him in time. Nice shirt, Greg."  
  
Greg grinned. "Thanks, Brass." A young man walked up to him, slapping him on the back, drunkenly.  
  
"Greggy! You playing tonight?"  
  
Greg smiled. "Nope. Here on business. I'll catch you later, Steve." He turned back to his friends. "I recognize a lot of the people here tonight. But I don't see Oscar or any of the other guys from Killjoy. Aren't they supposed to be starting soon?"  
  
Brass nodded. "Yeah. I would suggest we fan out, but I don't really know what this kid looks like."  
  
Grissom laughed. "He's got green hair - lime green hair."  
  
Warrick laughed. "So do at least 30 other people in this bar, so as a distinguishing feature that's not gonna cut it, Grissom."  
  
Grissom looked around at the other patrons in the bar and smiled. "I guess that's true."  
  
Greg interjected. "Why don't we let them perform, and get him afterwards. They're supposed to start in a few minutes anyway, and since they're the opening band they'll only have about 30 minutes to play. In the meantime, I can talk to a couple of people here and see if I can find out anything else."  
  
Grissom sighed. "Okay. For lack of a better idea, we'll stick around."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Killjoy had taken the stage about 5 minutes later. The first song they played was Sniper, the same one they had performed at The Edge the night Murdoch was murdered. Greg had moved towards the front of the stage and was talking to several different people, Nick and Warrick at his side. Catherine had managed to find an empty table, and she and Sara had slid into. Brass and Grissom were still standing at the bar, trying to get sodas for everyone.  
  
Sara smiled at Catherine as they say down. "You're going to give it away if you keep looking at him like the cat that ate the canary, you know."  
  
Catherine jumped and slanted a gaze at Sara, grinning. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Maybe if I said you look like the spider that just ate the fly, you might understand me better." Sara's tone was teasing, and she and Catherine started giggling. "Seriously, though. Are you trying to keep this a secret, or what? Because the way you look at him is going to give you away."  
  
Catherine sighed. "I don't know. It's still so new and - odd - to think that we're involved. And it's not like you and Nick - you guys are basically on the same level, so there's not a lot of office politics involved. But we have to be careful - Ecklie would have a field day with this. I mean, we don't care if you guys know, we just don't want anyone else too."  
  
Sara grinned. "Fair enough."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Killjoy was currently on their third song, and Grissom was getting ansty. He and Brass had rejoined the ladies, and despite his best efforts to remain calm, the atmosphere was definitely getting to him.  
  
~Bring the violence  
  
It's significant  
  
To the life  
  
If you've ever known anyone  
  
Bring the violence  
  
It's significant  
  
To the life  
  
Can you feel it?  
  
How do you sleep  
  
When you live with your lies  
  
Out of your mouth  
  
Up from your mind  
  
That kind of thinking  
  
Starts a chain reaction  
  
You are a time-bomb ticking away  
  
You need to release  
  
What you're feeling inside  
  
Let out the beast  
  
That you're trying to hide  
  
Step right up and be a part of the action  
  
Get your game face on  
  
Because it's time to play  
  
You're pushing and fighting your way  
  
You're ripping it up~  
  
"Where do they come up with these songs?" Grissom hollered over the noise at no one in particular. "First they perform one about shooting up a town, that last one - I couldn't even make out the words - and now this. I'll be glad when we can get out of here."  
  
~How do you live without playing the game  
  
Sit on the side and expect to keep sane  
  
Step right up and be a part of the action  
  
Come get a piece of it before it's too late  
  
Take a look around  
  
You can't deny what you see  
  
Were living in a violent society  
  
Well my brother let me show you a better way  
  
So get your game face on because it's time to play  
  
You're pushing and fighting your way you're ripping it up  
  
So tell me what am I supposed to be  
  
Another goddamn drone  
  
Tell me what am I supposed to be  
  
Should I leave it on the inside  
  
Should I get ready to play?~  
  
The crowd on the dance floor was cheering loudly, screaming their appreciation at the song. The lead singer grabbed the mic - "Thank you! You guys are great! And now, are you ready for this?"  
  
Yells and cheers.  
  
"I said: ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?"  
  
Screaming and stamping of feet.  
  
"Greg Sanders - drummer extraordinaire is in the audience - get him up on stage!"  
  
Cheering and yelling. Greg looked up, startled, as he heard his name. Hands grabbed him and pushed him up to the stage before he could object.  
  
"Greggy! Nice shirt, buddy!" The crowd yelled again. "Grab a set of sticks, Greg - your public wants you to join us in a battle of the drummers - you against Oscar!"  
  
The crowd was getting louder and louder. Grissom shot Brass a concerned look. "I don't like this."  
  
"Me either. Let's roll!" The two men stood, quickly followed by Catherine and Sara. The crowd on the dance floor was packed so tightly, they were having a hard time moving towards the stage.  
  
Greg was shifting besides Edd, "No can do - sorry. I'm working."  
  
Edd turned back to the crowd, working them like a showman. "Do you guys want Greg to play?"  
  
Deafening cheers, and chants of "Play - play - play!" There was no way Greg would be getting off the stage. Looking anxiously over the crowd, he saw Nick and Warrick where he had left them, trying to push their way to the front. Further back, Grissom and Brass were doing the same thing. Greg sighed - he would have to go along with this charade until they could get to the stage, but he didn't like it. There was no way this was Oscar's idea - and Greg had a feeling he was being set-up. Sighing in resignation, he took the drumsticks Edd was pushing at him. The stamping and cheering got louder.  
  
"Alright, Greg! And here's how it works - Greg will go first - no accompaniment. He'll have two minutes to beat the skins, and than it's Oscar's turn. Winner will be chosen by audience appreciation."  
  
Greg smiled weakly at the crowd as he approached the drum set. Oscar smirked at him as he gave up his seat. "Nice shirt, Greg. But not very subtle. You think you're so smart, but you don't have anything on me."  
  
Greg kept his face perfectly bland as he tried to digest Oscar's words. What the hell? He tapped experimentally on the drums.  
  
"You ready Greg?" Edd hollered. "Let the drumming begin."  
  
Greg started off slowly, building up, pounding a vicious, blinding rhythm. The screaming got louder, the stamping faster. On stage, a strobe light began flashing over the crowd.  
  
Grissom was pushing through the crowd with little regard for niceties now, just shoving his way through. The flash of the strobe lights was dizzying, and the surreal feeling of moving in slow-motion and fast-forward at the same time was making him ill. He looked anxiously over the crowd and saw Nick and Warwick shoving through as well. They had to get to Greg.  
  
The rolling rhythm of the drums was urging his heartbeat faster and faster. Behind him, he heard Brass yelling, "Out of the way - official police business! Out of the way!"  
  
All of a sudden, the drumming ended. The whistling and cheering pierced Grissom's ears, making him wince. He was close enough to the stage to see Greg stand and wave, face flushed from his recent exertions. He turned to hand the drumsticks to Oscar, and watched as Oscar clapped him on the shoulder. Greg winced, but stepped out from behind the kit. Off to the right, Grissom saw Nick jump on the stage and walk quickly to Greg's side, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, before grabbing Oscar by the front of his shirt.  
  
Grissom could read Nick's lips over the roar of the crowd. "You're coming with me, asshole. We're taking you in for questioning." Behind Nick, Warrick reached out to take the drumsticks.  
  
Oscar looked like he was going to resist, but then shrugged. "Sure man, whatever."  
  
The other band members were converging on the two CSIs, bristling. Grissom was finally able to get up on the stage and he rushed to help. The crowd was getting angry. He could hear yelling "Get on with the show!" "What the fuck is going on?" "Who are those guys?"  
  
Brass, Sara and Catherine were on the stage behind him, flashing their badges at the crowd. Someone turned on the lights, and Grissom blinked against the glare. He walked over to Greg.  
  
"You alright?"  
  
Greg looked at him. "He did it. He did it." His words were slurred. Grissom saw the pulse at the young man's throat beating. Greg leaned forward. "He liked my shirt, Grissom. He really liked my shirt."  
  
Grissom barely caught Greg as his eyes rolled back in his head and he sank to the ground.  
  
_____  
  
Author's notes: The song is VIOLENCE FETISH by DISTURBED. Excellent song. Please R&R - tell me what you think! 


	24. HEARTBEAT

XXIV - HEARTBEAT  
  
Off to Grissom's left, Nick and Warrick saw Greg collapse. Grissom was hollering for someone to call the paramedics, frantically feeling for a pulse. He could feel the blood rushing through his head.  
  
"What the hell did you do to Greg!" he demanded, picking Oscar up by his shirt and shaking him. "What did you do to him!"  
  
Behind him, he felt Warrick place a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Nick, buddy. Easy. Don't give him any reason to press charges."  
  
With a disgusted sigh and another shake, Nick lowered his arms, pushing Oscar at Warrick. "Keep him away from me, then." He turned to look again at Greg's prone form. Sara and Catherine were beside Grissom now, Catherine holding Greg's limp hand in her own; Sara sitting with Greg's head in her lap, brushing the hair from his forehead. Grissom was still monitoring Greg's pulse, his face a mask of frustration and fear.  
  
All around the stage, people were muttering. The crush of people hadn't dissipated, as everyone wanted to see what was going on - like rubber- neckers at the scene of a car accident. Brass came over to him. "Nick. We need to close off the stage, before we loose any evidence. I want everyone that was up here brought in for questioning. Police are on their way. So are the paramedics."  
  
Nick looked at Brass blankly, before giving himself a mental shake. "Yes, Brass. I'm on it."  
  
Numbly, with the help of a couple of the bouncers, Nick quickly set up a perimeter and moved the band members and various stage hands out of it. With strong exhortations for them to wait for the police in the charge of the bouncers, he quickly went back to the stage. The paramedics had arrived, and were easing Greg onto a stretcher. Their movements were precise and professional, but hurried.  
  
As they placed him on the stretcher, Nick could hear the clipped questions they were directing at Grissom.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I don't know. He just - collapsed."  
  
"Has he taken anything tonight - any type of drug or stimulant?"  
  
"No. He's a CSI - we're here working a case. He doesn't do drugs."  
  
The smaller of the two paramedics was checking Greg's eyes, the shiny beam pointed right at the pupil. "No dilation, Stan."  
  
"How long has his pulse been erratic like this?"  
  
Grissom looked at his watch. "About 10 minutes."  
  
"Has he responded to anything - voices, external stimuli - since he collapsed?"  
  
Grissom shook his head mutely. "What's going on? Is he going to be all right?"  
  
The paramedic shrugged. "We'll do what we can. But we don't know what we're dealing with here. You say he hasn't taken anything tonight, so we're working blind. The best thing we can do is get him to the hospital. Do you have his medical information?"  
  
"It's on file at the office. I'll call - have someone send it over."  
  
"Who's his next of kin?"  
  
The question shook Grissom. He couldn't respond. Nick stepped forward.  
  
"I am - we are. He doesn't have any family except us." His voice was choked with emotion. The paramedic nodded, making notes on his file.  
  
"Okay then. Is someone coming with us in the ambulance?"  
  
Grissom and Nick looked at each other. "You go, Nick. I'll stay here and process the scene. We'll be there as soon as we can."  
  
Nick nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Grissom." He looked at Sara, Catherine and Warrick, who were all standing uselessly around the paramedics, their expressions grim. "I'll call. As soon as I find anything out, I'll call."  
  
* * * * *  
  
After Greg was wheeled out, Grissom turned and walked angrily towards Brass. "We need to talk to Oscar right away, but I have to process the scene. Can you take him back and throw him in the cage for a while? I don't want anyone talking to him until I can figure out what the hell happened."  
  
Brass nodded grimly. "We can hold him, but not indefinitely. Grissom, are you sure Greg's clean?"  
  
"Of course I'm sure, Brass." Grissom snapped. "Greg does not do drugs." He walked over to Oscar, who was standing with a police officer on either side of him. "I don't know what you did to him, you little punk, but I'll find out."  
  
Oscar looked at Grissom emotionlessly. "I didn't do anything to him." He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Greg did it all to himself."  
  
* * * * *  
  
For the second time in three shifts, Sara was processing an empty bar. "I don't understand what happened!" She muttered, as she looked around the stage. "One minute he was fine, the next he was down."  
  
Grissom was standing in the middle of the room, scowling, as he replayed the 5 minutes before Greg's collapse over and over in his mind. "He only came into direct physical contact with Oscar twice at most that I saw. Once - maybe - when he sat down behind the drums. Oscar was right behind him. The second time was when he finished drumming and handed back the drumsticks. Oscar clapped him on the shoulder."  
  
Warrick's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Grissom's words. "I saw that too. Greg winced." He strode quickly to the back of the drum kit. "Nick was on the stage by then, and he pulled Greg over to the side here. Oscar had sat down on the drum stool, and Nick grabbed him, reaching over like this." Warrick demonstrated. He looked at Grissom. Sara and Catherine had stopped what they were doing and stepped closer, a growing understanding dawning in their eyes.  
  
Grissom nodded. "Oscar drugged him with something. Greg is having a reaction. Where would he have put the syringe?"  
  
Warrick went down to his knees, until he was eye-level with the drum stool. He looked into the bass drum, scanning his flashlight carefully around the interior. "Nothing here."  
  
Sara had moved to his side. "Could he have tossed it without anyone noticing? Into the back stage area?" Her light was flashing along the floor, into the corners. Grissom shook his head.  
  
"It's a possibility. Or, he could still have it on him, somewhere. I better call Brass and warn him. They need to check him out." He quickly pulled out his cell-phone.  
  
Warrick was still on his knees behind the drum set, tentatively running his hand over and under the stool seat.  
  
"Careful, Warrick." Catherine had joined Sara in her slow search of the back of the stage. "If he's hidden it in the seat, you don't want to get pricked."  
  
Warrick shrugged to indicate he had heard her, still carefully running his fingers over the vinyl. "Nothing." He finally sighed in disgust.  
  
The snap of Grissom's cell phone made him jump. He looked at Grissom questioningly. "Spoke with Brass. They're going to search him as soon as they get back to the station. If Oscar did drug him we need to find that syringe. It will help if we know what Greg's fighting against."  
  
Warrick had picked up the drumsticks and was carefully examining them. They had been sitting on top of the one of the drums, where Oscar had placed them as Nick grabbed him. Slowly standing, he pushed the bar stool out of his way, tapping a couple of the drums lightly. He stepped on the foot trap and opened up the cymbals to see if the syringe was in there. Again, nothing.  
  
"You guys having any luck?"  
  
Sara and Catherine grunted a negative. "I wish Nick would call and tell us what's going on." Sara's voice was worried.  
  
"He will. Give him time - they probably only just got to the hospital." Catherine's voice was reassuring. Warrick turned back to the drum set. With the tip of the drum stick, he began lifting the soft vinyl covers that covered several of the drum skins. "Bingo!"  
  
"Grissom, guys - I found it. Bring the camera." Warrick smiled grimly as Grissom approached him. There, sharp end poking slightly into the skin on a jumbo snare drum, a small syringe had been hidden under the dampener.  
  
The two men looked at in with distaste as Sara approached with the camera and started taking pictures. "Okay, let's get this back to the lab and see what we can get from it. There're definitely going to be fingerprints 'cuz he didn't have gloves on. Let's hope we can get a toxicology report, ASAP."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick waited anxiously in the waiting room off of emergency. He was pacing restlessly. On the drive over to the hospital, Greg had been hooked up to oxygen and a heart monitor. Nick, who was not a doctor, knew enough to realize that the irregular blipping was not a good sign.  
  
They had made it to the hospital in record time, rushing through the emergency room doors. Nick had immediately been ushered into the small waiting room, and had been there ever since. He had no idea what was going on, and it was killing him.  
  
"Mr. Stokes?" A strong voice broke into his restless thoughts, and he stopped pacing.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm Dr. Jansen. I have a few questions for you about Greg."  
  
Nick nodded. "How is he? Is he alright?"  
  
The doctor sighed. "He's still unconscious. We received his medical information from the police station via fax about 10 minutes ago. I understand he was working when he collapsed?"  
  
Nick nodded in assent.  
  
"His boss was there, is that correct?"  
  
Nick nodded again.  
  
"Strictly between you and I, are you positive he didn't take any drugs this evening? He's exhibiting all the classic signs of a drug overdose."  
  
Nick bristled. "Greg's a responsible guy. He's the best chemist we have at CSI, and there's no way he would ever take drugs. We see too many cases where drugs are one of the contributing factors - there's just no way."  
  
"Okay. Could someone have slipped something to him without his knowledge - in a drink perhaps?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "I was with him from the time we arrived until he collapsed. He didn't have anything to drink - not even a water. What's wrong with him?"  
  
"His heartbeat is very irregular, blood pressure low. We're getting no pupil dilation and limited reflex. But I hesitate treating him until we can pinpoint the problem. If it is drugs -" he held up his hand as Nick started to interrupt him - "if it is drugs, I don't want to give him anything that could react negatively. That would just exacerbate the situation. We're trying to get his blood pressure stabilized now, level out his heart beat. If we don't, I'm afraid he'll go into cardiac arrest. We're running a blood test - see if we can find anything."  
  
Nick stared at Dr. Jansen in shock, tears filling his eyes. Before he could respond, his cell phone started ringing. He looked at the doctor blankly. "Excuse me for a minute, it's probably our boss." He quickly flipped his open. "Stokes here."  
  
"Nick. It's Sara. How's Greg?" Nick could feel her concern through the phone, and a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.  
  
"It's not looking good, Sara. They're having problems stabilizing him - his blood pressure is really low, and his heartbeat is irregular. I'm just talking to the doctor now. Can I call you back?"  
  
"Nick - we found a syringe. We're headed back to the lab to check it out. Tell the doctor it looks like he was drugged. We're going to run a Tox. Report right away - I'll call as soon as I know." Her voice was choked. "Tell me he's going to be alright, Nicky. I really need to hear that he's going to be alright."  
  
"I don't know, Sara. I'll call you. Tell Grissom I'll call you. And I'll tell the doctor."  
  
"Nicky? Grissom wants you to check his left shoulder for a needle mark. If there is one, get a picture. Process him, Nick."  
  
Nick sighed. "None of my stuff is here - it's in my truck. God, Sara. What are we going to do?"  
  
Silence on her end, followed by a long sigh. "I don't know. I'll see if Grissom will let me come over with my kit. Take care of him, Nicky." She hung up, and Nick shut his phone, turning to the doctor.  
  
"He was drugged. We don't know with what. They're going to run a toxicology report back at the lab and call as soon as they know anything. I have to look at him - see if I can find any marks. I have to process him."  
  
Dr. Jansen, who was not unfamiliar with crime processing, looked at Nick in sympathy. "It's got to be hard when the victim is your friend."  
  
Nick angrily brushed the tears from his face. "He's not just my friend, he's my brother."  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: thanks for all the support and the reviews and advice. I appreciate them, as well as the emails you all are sending me regarding this story. When I originally started it, I didn't realize it was going to be this long, but it's growing. I feel another spin-off! Please R&R! 


	25. PROPULSID

XXV - PROPULSID  
  
Oscar Fennil was a particularly odious person. Grissom had come to this conclusion after an initial short interview with the young man, who had refused to say anything other than "Get me a lawyer", and "I know my rights." He hadn't even blinked when confronted with the fact that they had found the syringe, which almost certainly had his fingerprints on it. He had merely shrugged, "So. It just proves I had a syringe in my drum kit."  
  
At Brass' suggestion, Grissom had left the room to cool down. Oscar had called his parents, who had called a lawyer, who was on his way. Until they could make Oscar squirm, they would not be finding out anything from him. And with every minute that passed, Grissom's concern for Greg increased.  
  
Sara had given everyone a quick briefing on what Nick had told her about Greg's condition, which was basically nothing. No one really knew what was going on. When she had asked for permission to take Nick his field kit and camera so he could process Greg, Grissom had said no.  
  
Instead, he had sent Warrick, and he knew Sara was upset with him, but Grissom had his reasons. The biggest one was consideration for Greg. Processing a victim was an invasive procedure, and if - when - Greg got better, Grissom didn't want him to have to be embarrassed about anything. And Greg would be embarrassed at the thought of Sara taking pictures of him and thoroughly examining his body for indications of needle marks. Grissom wanted to leave Greg with whatever dignity he could.  
  
He wandered down the hallway and looked into the lab. Sara and Catherine were standing there, breathing over Vincent's shoulder, waiting for results for the Tox report. Off to the side, Grissom saw the computer monitor flashing match, and two fingerprints. He smiled. There was at least one nail in Oscar's coffin. Sighing, he walked into the lab.  
  
Catherine smiled at him gently, before turning anxious eyes back to Vincent. Sara also smiled at Grissom, walking over to him. "I understand why you didn't let me go. Have you heard anything?"  
  
Grissom shook his head. "Nothing. If they don't call within the next 10 minutes, I'll call them. How close are we to getting the breakdown?"  
  
Vincent shrugged. "Almost done. Give me another minute."  
  
The silence was overwhelming, and the release of tension when the computer finally spit out the results was palpable.  
  
Grissom read the results with anger. "Cocaine. And Propulsid."  
  
"Propulsid? Wasn't that banned by the FDA a couple of years ago?" Sara's voice was shaky.  
  
Grissom nodded. "It's been known to cause irregular heartbeats and sudden death." His voice was grim.  
  
Catherine sighed. "And when mixed with cocaine - a major stimulant -" she stopped talking and looked at Grissom with tears in her eyes. "Greg's in serious trouble."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Warrick had found the small needle mark on Greg's upper left hand shoulder fairly quickly. The pale skin on Greg's shoulder had been bruised, and the dot of blood at the insertion point had made it easy to spot.  
  
Dr. Jansen, who had been observing them work, quickly stepped forward and inspected the mark.  
  
"This went right into his muscle. No finesse there. I might be able to excise some of the area to determine what drug was used. It may be faster than testing the blood."  
  
The sudden beeping of a pager caused all three men to jump. "Mine!" Nick exclaimed, checking the number. "Grissom. Maybe he has some news for us. Excuse me." Nick turned and strode out of the room to the nearest bank of pay phones. He had already been told once - politely, but firmly - no cell phone use in the hospital.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When Nick returned five minutes later, Warrick was sitting beside Greg, talking to him. "I'm sure Grissom is arresting Oscar right now, Greggo, so don't worry about that. We know he drugged you with something, and we're trying to figure out what, but you gotta fight, man. Don't give up!"  
  
"Hey." Nick walked to the other side of the bed. Greg looked impossibly pale against the white sheets of the hospital bed and Nick found the hiss of oxygen and beeping of the heart monitor was obscene. "That was Grissom. They know what was used. Where's Dr. Jansen."  
  
Warrick kept his gaze firmly fixed on Greg. "He'll be back in a minute. He wanted to see if some test results were back yet."  
  
Nick sighed and sat down across from Warrick, on Greg's opposite side. "Did you know Greg was a foster child?" At Warrick's surprised glance, Nick nodded. "Told me today. He's been in foster care since he was a little kid. Never knew his dad. Mom OD'd when he was nine. He's been on his own since he was sixteen." Nick felt his eyes tear up again, and his voice got harsh. "He's a fighter, War. He'll be okay. He told me today he thought of us as his family."  
  
Warrick blinked rapidly, trying to hide the tears in his own eyes. "He would be laughing his ass off if he could see us right now - two grown men crying like babies."  
  
Nick laughed softly, wiping his eyes and sniffling at the same time. "Did I tell you he bought a great big translucent green tackle box to us as his field kit? I suggested a black one, but he said 'why be like everyone else.'" The two men stared at their friend silently. "He's gotta be okay, Warrick. I'm just really getting to know him."  
  
Dr. Jansen strode back into the room, observing the two men. They both turned to him, trying to hide their tears, and Nick stood up.  
  
"We got the results back on the syringe they found. Cocaine and Propulsid."  
  
Dr. Jansen nodded. "That confirms my findings. I called a friend of mine a couple of minutes ago - he's on his way over. He's a heart specialist. Greg is suffering from ventricular tachycardia - his lower heart chambers are beating too quickly, which is causing his low blood pressure and heart arrhythmia." He looked at Nick and Warrick before looking at his chart again. "Propulsid was taken off the market by the FDA because it's been known to cause this. The cocaine wouldn't have helped matters. Did you find out the size of the syringe? It would be nice to know how many cc's max we may be dealing with."  
  
Nick shook his head. "I didn't ask. Do you want me to call back and find out?"  
  
"Eventually, yes. Step outside with me for a second." The three men left Greg, stepping quickly out into the hallway. "I'm not going to lie to you. I think his heart will probably be greatly damaged by this. That's why I called Dr. Mellows. We did an ultrasound earlier when Greg was first brought in, and Greg's heart is showing signs of permanent scarring. I think - and Mellows concurs - that we're going to have to implant a defibrillator to get his heart stabilized."  
  
"Does that work like a pacemaker?" Warrick's tone was worried.  
  
Dr. Jansen nodded. "Yes and no. A pacemaker speeds up a slow heart. This device I'm talking about will slow down a heartbeat that's too fast, or speed it up if it's too slow. It runs on electrical impulses, and will be monitored at all times by a professional. The thing is -" he stopped, looking at the two men with concern. "The thing is, this is a permanent device. Once he has it implanted, it stays there. He'll need to make some lifestyle adjustments, go in for monitoring - regular check-ups, that sort of thing. He'll need to adjust to it physically as well as mentally." He held up his hands before Warrick or Nick could interrupt. "I'm not saying he won't live a perfectly normal lifestyle after we do this, but he will need a lot of support to get him there."  
  
"Isn't there something else you could do? Medication? Anything?" Nick's voice was agitated. Warrick put a steadying hand on his arm, gripping tightly.  
  
Dr. Jansen shook his head. "No. The damage is too great. Without this, he will more than likely die. His heart is under a great deal of strain right now, and it could give at any minute. If we don't do this - the sooner the better - he will definitely go into cardiac arrest. Dr. Mellows is prepared to take him right into surgery the minute he arrives." He looked at the men reassuringly. "I can get you pamphlets - information on the device, the surgery - support groups for your friend. If there was any other option, I would do it."  
  
Nick turned away from him, leaning his forehead against the cool brick of the hallway. "Do it then. We're trusting you."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was just getting off the phone with Warrick when Brass came into his office. "Fennils' lawyer's here. We can question him now." He looked at the phone in Grissom's hand. "Was that about Greg?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "Warrick. He didn't go into particulars, but Greg's condition is not good. They're prepping him for surgery right now, and they're going to be implanting a defibrillator to try to correct his heart beat. Ventricular Tachycardia." He looked at Brass, his eyes bleak. "How am I going to tell Catherine and Sara?"  
  
Brass sighed. "Cripes. I don't know what to say, Grissom. I want to nail this little rat-bastard so hard he doesn't know what hit him."  
  
Grissom smiled grimly. "Let's go then. I've been thinking about something that Greg said before he collapsed, and I have an idea."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Oscar Fennil sat smugly besides his lawyer. "I don't need to answer your questions."  
  
Grissom agreed with him. "No, you don't. And that's fine. We know you killed Rivers, Waters, Phillips and Murdoch and we have the police heading to your apartment with a warrant right now. I'm pretty confident we'll find Rivers fingertips there somewhere, perhaps an old prescription of Propulsid. You're not as smart as you think, Oscar."  
  
Oscar stiffened, glaring at Grissom. "I'm smarter than you, old man. And I didn't do it."  
  
Brass smiled. "No one is smarter than Grissom, Oscar. All those conversations you participated in with Greg and Dave, and you never learned that? You should have paid more attention."  
  
"I have to admit, it was smart using water on the envelope and stamp - you didn't leave any DNA evidence there. But look at it from our perspective: you were angry at being barred from the Battle of the Bands - we have several witnesses who have relayed that information. So, you decided to kill the judges.  
  
"From listening to Greg talking about work, you learned a fair amount about how Crime Scene Investigations are run. But you left fingerprints all over a major clue - the letter you sent Phillips. Evidence shows Murdoch was shot by someone on the stage. You were on the stage. Not only that, the gun used to kill Murdoch was found at the shooting range you work at. We've already matched the casing found at the crime scene. And as far as Nick goes, we found the syringe. You're fingerprints are all over it. We know you drugged Greg."  
  
Oscar shrugged. "I'll admit to drugging Greg. Big fucking deal. Arrest me for that. But you have no physical evidence linking me to any of these other murders - just a pile of circumstantial crap. A writing analysis will prove I didn't write that letter, and lots of people have access to the guns at the shooting range."  
  
"You got me there, Oscar. For the time being, it is all circumstantial. But that will change. We have detectives heading to your apartment right now with a search warrant. I'm betting we'll find Rivers fingertips in your freezer - maybe even the knife you used to slice them off and kill Waters with. I'm also betting they'll find something - a grocery list - a song you're working on - where the writing will match." He leaned towards Oscar, a feral grin on his face. "Greg told me before he collapsed just how much you liked his shirt, Oscar. I know you're ambidextrous. And I know something else too - even if - by some chance, you manage to get off for murdering the first four men, you'll get serious time for attacking an officer of the court. And if he dies, you'll get the death penalty."  
  
Oscar looked rattled for a second, before responding coolly. "Greg's not a police officer, he's just a glorified science geek."  
  
Brass grinned. "Didn't you hear? Greg was promoted a couple of days ago. He's the newest member of our night shift CSI team - criminalist in training, affording him all the rights and privileges of a full-fledged officer of the LVPD. You attacked an officer, Oscar. So you better hope he survives."  
  
______  
  
Author's note: This story wraps up in the next chapter or so. Just to warn you. The Greg situation calls for a story of it's own, so I'm working on a draft now. There will be a sequel. For those of you emailing me to find out the name of Sara's kitten, wait and see!  
  
PROPULSID is a real drug that was banned by the FDA after being linked to several deaths in the USA. Class-action lawsuits are still ongoing. All the information on Greg's condition, including info. on implantable defibrillator's can be found on the world wide web. 


	26. FAMILY

XXVI - FAMILY  
  
The small waiting room outside surgery was packed. Grissom and the rest of the team had arrived about 10 minutes after Greg had finally been wheeled into surgery, and Nick and Warrick had been relieved to see them.  
  
Grissom had quickly filled them in on the arrest of Oscar Fennil. "He finally admitted he did it. On the advice of his lawyer. The DA let him plea bargain to 4 counts of murder one and attempted murder. Serving all sentences concurrent, death penalty off the table. Of course, if Greg - well, the charges would change."  
  
Brass was grim. "As soon as he found out that Greg was a CSI-in-training, he buckled. Didn't want to get nailed for attacking an officer."  
  
"But why go after Greg? I don't understand it. He had nothing to do with the Battle of the Bands." Warrick's shook his head. "What was that all about?"  
  
"He's jealous of Greg. Smart guy, great drummer - way more talented than him. The other murders gave him a sense of invincibility. And, he thought Greg had figured it out, and was taunting him."  
  
"Taunting him? Figured what out?" Nick was angry. He had tensed up considerably as Grissom had been speaking, and he looked like he was about to explode.  
  
"His shirt. Oscar saw his shirt. There's a reason the writing analysis came back negative - Oscar is ambidextrous. He wrote the note with the opposite hand of what he normally does, to avoid a match."  
  
Sara was beside Nick, sliding her arms around his waist, leaning into his chest. His arms automatically tightened around her, but she could feel the barely suppressed rage in him. "Yelling isn't going to help Greg, Nicky. You have to relax."  
  
His shoulders slumped. "I can't help it. You should have seen him when they wheeled him in. It's a good thing I wasn't there when Oscar was being questioned - I would have lost my job for sure."  
  
Grissom smiled grimly. "He'll get what he deserves."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The silence was unbearable. Everyone had stopped talking ages ago, and now just basically sat there, waiting for news. Every time they heard footsteps behind the swinging doors leading into surgery, they tensed. They had all taken turns reading the various pamphlets Dr. Jansen had provided them, and now there was nothing to do but wait.  
  
Nick was grimacing into his coffee cup when the doors he was so focused on finally swung open. He stood quickly as Dr. Mellows and Dr. Jansen strode towards them. Around him, the other CSI's also stood, moving closer together in a gesture of solidarity and support.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Dr. Mellows acknowledged everyone with a nod, before looking at Nick. Sara was clenching his hand so tightly, he could feel the bones in his knuckles grinding. "The implant is in, and it's been tested so we know it works. Now, we just have to wait for Greg. He's in recovery right now."  
  
Dr. Jansen added. "He flat lined once during surgery. Not for long, but it did happen. The lower ventricles of his heart and some of the surrounding muscle tissue are exhibiting signs of trauma. I think it's a good thing we performed the surgery when we did. Greg is fighting with all he's got, but it wouldn't have been enough."  
  
Grissom stepped forward. "What's his prognosis?"  
  
"It's still up in the air right now. It depends on a couple of factors - the first one being the defibrillator working properly and getting his heart rate back to normal. That has to happen soon. The second thing we're waiting for is for Greg to wake up. The fact that he's been unconscious for so long now," Jansen sighed. "Well, it's not good. We also have to get his blood pressure stabilized."  
  
Dr. Mellows interrupted. "And then, of course, Greg's will is going to play a large factor in this. In my experience young men like Greg generally react negatively to this type of situation. They think they're too young to be experiencing heart problems, too young to need a medical implant. He is going to need a lot of emotional support from you to get him through this. The sooner he accepts what has happened, the better his chances for a full recovery. Dr. Jansen here has filled me in on Greg's familial status, so I've made arrangements - in this case - for non-family members to have visiting privileges. I would suggest you all go eat, go change - whatever - and give him a few hours in recovery. After I've monitored him for a while, I'll let you visit him. Perhaps, we'll have better news."  
  
* * * * *  
  
After a quick breakfast down in the hospital cafeteria, everyone had agreed to meet back in the waiting room at noon. Grissom had driven everyone back to the Orpheum to pick up vehicles, and Warrick had retrieved Greg's keys from his clothing before they left.  
  
Stroking Silverbelle across the roof as he unlocked the door, he murmured, "Hey Silverbelle, don't give me any trouble today. I have to take care of you until Greg is better. He'll be okay."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The kitten had been ecstatic to see Nick and Sara when they arrived back at Nick's place. Her meowing and rubbing against Sara's legs had made her giggle, and she had picked the small animal up and cuddled it against her face. "Hi kitty, I missed you too."  
  
Nick had smiled slightly at this. "You need to name her, Sara. You can't just keep calling her 'Kitty'. Unless that's what you name her."  
  
"It's hard to think of a name right now. I'm so worried about Greg I can't concentrate." The sudden heat of tears filling her eyes made her blink. "I'm so angry. And I'm scared. What if something happens to him?"  
  
Nick had leaned against the counter top in the kitchen, and was now looking up at his ceiling fan, blinking back his own tears. "All we can do is pray now. Pray and shower. I want to get back to the hospital. What if he wakes up and no one's there? He'll think we don't love him."  
  
Sara smiled at that, and rubbed her nose in the kitten's soft fur again. "You're just a big softie, Nick. You're so open with your emotions. I really appreciate that about you." She gently placed the kitten back on the floor. "Come on. We'll save time and conserve water if we shower together."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Stop beating yourself up about this, Gil." Catherine's voice was soft, her eyes gentle. "It's not your fault."  
  
Grissom sighed. "If I had only gotten to the stage sooner. If I hadn't bought him that damn shirt -"  
  
Catherine scoffed. "What? How can you blame yourself? You didn't know. And Greg loved the shirt. I think you notice more about the people around you than I ever gave you credit for. You're a good man, Gil. This isn't your fault."  
  
Grissom shrugged, shaking his head. "Logically, I know this. But in my heart - I blame myself."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg had been moved to a private room by the time everyone returned to the hospital. Dr. Jansen had informed them that his blood pressure was stabilizing, and that his heart rate was evening out. The tiny implant had been working overtime, already having been called into action twice to shock Greg's heart back to an acceptable rhythm. "If you're in his room, and you see him tense up, do not be alarmed. It's the defrib., doing what it's supposed to do."  
  
Grissom's first sight of Greg lying in the hospital bed immobilized him with grief. There were tubes in his nose for oxygen, electrodes taped to him to monitor his heart beat, a large IV with several bags of various medications dripping into his arm. Greg looked more like a corpse than a human. He noticed Sara walk immediately over to his side, bending down to kiss his cheek, her eyes overly bright.  
  
"Hey Greggo. Good to see you." She ran her fingers through his hair, which a nurse or orderly had brushed or smoothed down for him, and quickly messed it up. When it was sticking up all over the place, she stood back and admired her handiwork. "There. That's better - now you look more like the Greg I know."  
  
Catherine was next. "Hey Greg. We're all here. We're waiting for you to wake up, so hurry up and open your eyes. I need you to get better quickly and come back to work, because Vincent is going to drive me insane."  
  
His CSI's were crowded around Greg's bed now, touching his arms, his hands, almost as if their touch could send new life in to his unconscious limbs. "Greg." "You're going to be alright, Greg." "We miss you, Greg." Their soft murmurs overlapped each other, becoming an encouraging buzz in his head.  
  
Grissom stepped forward, and reached out to take Greg's hand. "Hey Greg. It's me. I just wanted to tell you, you broke the case. We have Oscar, and he's admitted to the murders. We couldn't have done it without you." His voice was hoarse, on the point of breaking. The others, who were used to seeing Grissom always in control, stared at him in concern and disbelief. Grissom was crying, and he did nothing to hide his tears.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Greg. It's my fault." Catherine was immediately beside Grissom, leaning into him, providing support. He acknowledged her with a weak smile. "It's all my fault."  
  
"No, it's not." The soft whisper took everyone by surprise. They had been so focused on Grissom and his anguish, they had not seen Greg slowly opening his eyes. He smiled at them weakly. "What? Did somebody die?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dr's. Jansen and Mellows had been called to Greg's hospital room within minutes of his regaining consciousness. After speaking to him for a few minutes to determine how he was feeling, they had given him a perfunctionary exam. Grissom and Nick had sat on either side of Greg, holding his hands, as Dr. Mellow told him about his implant. When the doctor's finally left, the room was silent.  
  
Greg was quiet, closing his eyes and turning his head sideways into his pillow, trying not to cry.  
  
"Greg. Talk to us, Greg." Nick's voice was gentle and insistent. "We're here for you, buddy."  
  
He felt a cool hand stroking his forehead, and opened his eyes to see Catherine standing at the top of his bed, concern in her eyes. "You'll get through this, Greg. You'll be back to work in no time."  
  
"Nothing will ever be the same again." Greg's voice was broken.  
  
Warrick stepped into his line of vision, behind Catherine. His blue eyes were full of understanding. "Things change. It's a fact of life. You got to go with the flow, man." He smiled wryly, trying to inject a little humor into an otherwise tragic situation. "Besides, you're Bionic now."  
  
Greg huffed wetly. "I feel more like the Tin Man." He closed his eyes. "But this is not Oz, and the wizard is never going to fix me." Tears were streaming from his eyes, and he closed them tightly against his friends. "Please, just leave. I want to be alone."  
  
Grissom, who had said nothing since the doctors had left, leaned forward, gripping Greg's hand tightly.  
  
"We're not leaving you Greg. You need your family with you."  
  
Greg opened up his eyes and stared at Grissom. "I don't have a family."  
  
Grissom merely squeezed his hand tighter. "Yes, you do."  
  
~FIN~  
  
_______  
  
Author's note: Okay. I have to stop here, or I'll wear out my welcome. I hope you all enjoyed the story and the ending - I promise, my next story will continue where this one left off - with Greg, and the repercussions of his attack. Please R&R - email suggestions - whatever you want to do. I really appreciated every criticism and review I read, and I take all suggestions seriously.  
  
Also, I think I fell in love with Greg while I was writing this story. Help me. 


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